Choices
by wrackspurts nargles
Summary: Not all Slytherins turn out to be like Voldemort and not all Gryffindors turn out to be like Dumbledore. In the end, what matters most is the choices they make. So do try to keep your options open, and if you manage to provide alternative options for potential enemies as well? Good for you. And here enters, Gerin Adrian Potter, proud Slytherin and brother to the Boy-Who-Lived.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1.

"Platform 9 ¾, I should have asked when I could," Harry muttered to himself under his breath as he looked around desperately for some kind of hint as to where the platform was. Maybe there would be a sign or something? A magical sign? He might have missed it during his 4th (or was it 5th?) lap around the platform.

 _What if there was a mistake and he wasn't magic after all. What if Hagrid was wrong. What if he had to go back to the Dursleys, Uncle Vernon's already left and he didn't have any cash for a cab, though maybe someone would lend him some cash if he asked nicely? (Or maybe,_ a part of his mind whispered, _he could just take this chance to run away. He did have a trust vault after all.)_

Harry turned his trolley once more ignoring the looks of the other people at the platform and resigned himself to making another lap.

"Excuse me,"

Harry spun around, nearly knocking Hedwig's cage off the trolley and only the other boy's quick reactions saved her from what would have probably been an extremely uncomfortable tumble.

"Sorry, er, thank you." He stammered out, feeling his cheeks heat up as he kept his eyes on the floor.

"No, that's quite alright. Though you might want to try and keep your owl out of sight. It's drawing the muggles' attention."

Harry's eyes shot up and he gaped at the other boy who was watching him with barely hidden amusement.

"You - you're a wizard?"

"No, I just happen to like using made up words when talking to complete strangers in a public area." He said dryly. "Yes, I do go to Hogwarts. First year? I assume you're looking for the platform." The not-quite-a-question was accompanied by a raised eyebrow.

"Er, yes, I've forgotten to ask Hagrid," Harry replied sheepishly.

The older boy raised his other eyebrow at the mention of Hagrid but didn't say anything further before taking the handle of Harry's trolley and gesturing towards him to follow.

"Well then, come along now."

Harry trotted up to his side as they walked back towards platform 9 and 10, feeling a little shy in front of someone who acted so self-assured, "Thanks. I was terrified I'd miss the train and have to go back to my relatives. I'm Harry, by the way, Harry Potter."

The other boy's eyes flickered towards his forehead almost immediately, and Harry self-consciously shook his head so his bangs covered his scar. The boy's gaze returned to the front. "Evans. You can call me Evans. Second year at Hogwarts."

"Oh. Okay."

The conversation sort of died as the two silently made their way towards wherever it was they were going. Just as Harry was working up the nerve to ask him about Hogwarts the older boy stopped.

"Er, I'd sort of already checked platforms 9 and 10…" Harry trailed off as he realized the older boy was smirking slightly, and before Harry could ask him what exactly was so funny, Evans pushed him lightly towards the wall next to him, and when he raised his hand to brace himself, _he fell through the bloody brick wall_.

With a yelp, he stumbled through and barely managed to regain his balance in time to move away before Evans came through as well, with all of Harry's belongings.

"A bloody warning would have been nice." Harry snapped at him before he could stop himself, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"My apologies. I couldn't quite resist." Evans replied with a perfectly straight face, completely unrepentant. He paused briefly, "Also, language."

Just as Harry was about to retort to _that_ , he was almost run over by a trolley that came through the wall after them.

"Sorry, mate didn't see you there." The redhead who came through said cheerfully as he moved to the side right as another redhead appeared.

"Oi, Fred, found Lee yet? Oh. Funny seeing you here Evans."

The first redhead who had seemingly just noticed the older boy next to Harry agreed, "Yeah, thought you'd already be on the train."

Evans gave them a disinterested look before replying, "I fancied a bit of a walk before leaving. Not that it's any of your business, Weasley."

The twins gave him a long look when the second redhead (or was he the first? Harry couldn't quite tell) rolled his eyes and his face suddenly broke out into a grin. "No need to get your knickers in a twist, we were just curious. See you at the feast then?"

"I'd prefer not to." An almost pained look crossed Evans' face as he answered, but the twins just laughed before moving on to board the train chatting to each other about 'Lee' 'greasy' and 'a chamber pot'.

"... Chamber pot?"

"If I don't want to know, neither do you," Evans said, quite firmly for someone just a year older than Harry himself. He seemed to be about to leave when he hesitated and turned back towards him.

"Is there anything you'd like to ask about Hogwarts or the Wizarding World in general? There isn't much time so do try to be quick."

Instantly Harry's mind, which had been brimming with questions since Hagrid had given him his letter, went through all the possible questions he could ask. _What's Hogwarts like, where is it, what kind of spells do they teach, what are the teachers like, (do you think the other kids will like me, are you sure I'm a wizard, why did Voldemort try to kill me, why am I alive)_.

"Do you, do you have any advice for, you know, er, being a wizard?"

The older boy paused and gave him a very wry look. "I hope you realize that doesn't really count as being quick."

"Sorry," Harry said quickly and looked down, cursing silently when he felt his face heat up again.

"For one, don't apologize unless you've actually done something wrong and stop talking to your shoes. It makes people think it would be easy to walk over you. You don't want that especially not if you're the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry nodded quickly and realizing he could still see his shoes raised his head so he met the other boy's hazel eyes.

"Use your words, don't expect people to know what you're thinking, and don't expect people to be thinking the way you do. You'd be surprised by how ridiculous wizards and witches can be. And for Merlin's sake, keep an open mind and think before you speak or act. Don't let other people make your opinions for you. Make your own from whatever facts you can gather and base your decisions on them."

Harry nodded again, and when Evans raised his eyebrow at him, he cleared his throat, "Right. Got it. That's, er, that's quite… deep."

Evans' lips quirked up in a slight smile. "I suggest you try to read at least a few chapters of your textbooks before class, especially transfiguration and potions, and finish your school work as soon as you can. Also, don't hesitate to ask older students for help, at least during the first week or so. I've found most students like to show off to first years. You'd actually be doing them a favor."

"Okay," Harry said firmly and drew in a breath, "Think before I do anything, talk to people, read ahead, especially for transfiguration and potions, do my school work on time, ask others for help, and don't apologize." At the other boy's look, he hastily added. "Unless I've done something wrong. Then I should apologize."

"Lovely," Evans said dryly before gesturing towards the train. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I expect to see you during the Sorting."

Harry nodded. There was a pause. Evans sighed and added pointedly, "Goodbye."

"Oh! Oh. Sorry. I mean, I'm not sorry, just, sorry, goodbye." Harry said glumly but Evans just gave him another one of his just-barely-there smiles (the Wizarding World's way of adding hyphens on everything was rubbing off on him) and boarded the train without any other comment.

As he watched the older boy leave, and as he himself turned to board the train, Harry felt a rush of excitement that left him feeling breathless and giddy. Maybe, maybe things would actually work out, and finally, he'd be able to call someplace home.

Now, all he needed to do was get all his luggage onboard without pulling a muscle.

* * *

"Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full."

Harry looked up from his potions textbook and blinked at the boy standing nervously at the door to the compartment. The ginger shifted, clearly uncomfortable, as his ears started to turn an interesting shade of red.

"'Course you can, sorry, I'll just get my things out of the way," Harry said quickly and winced inwardly. Don't apologize unless you've actually done something wrong you dunce, he scolded himself as he put his books back into his bag. The boy sat down across from Harry, and seemingly unable to stop himself, blurt out,

"You can't already be _studying_? We haven't even arrived!"

Feeling rather defensive Harry pulled his potions textbook closer to himself, "It's not like I've anything else to do. Besides, there's nothing wrong with reading ahead a bit. One of the older students said it'd be useful especially for potions and transfiguration."

The other boy looked slightly uncomfortable and shifted in his seat, "Well, I suppose so. Fred and George did say Snape was a greasy git."

There was a brief awkward pause when neither boy knew exactly how to go on after their not-so-friendly first bit of conversation, but soon the other boy cleared his throat and plowed over the silence. "I'm Ron, Ronald Weasley. First year at Hogwarts."

Ridiculously grateful, Harry replied eagerly, "I'm Harry, Harry Potter. I'm a first year too. Nice to meet you."

Ron gaped at him, "You're the Boy-Who-Lived!" His eyes darted around the (completely empty aside from themselves, Harry thought with no little bemusement) compartment before leaning forward and whispering quite loudly, "Can I see, you know?" He gestured vaguely towards his own forehead then Harry's before settling to look at him hopefully.

His bemusement growing in the face of Ron's obvious anticipation, Harry grinned and lifted his bangs in a show of uncharacteristic confidence to show the other boy his scar. He was rewarded by Ron's breathless ' _Wicked_.'

"Does it hurt?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh, "No! It's been years, 'course it doesn't hurt."

Ron shrugged, "Well, it's a cursed scar. Anything could happen with cursed scars."

"Scars can be cursed?"

"Anything can be cursed! My dad had to work overtime for a week once, 'cause some git thought it'd be funny to sell a muggle a cursed teapot. Poor bloke had to stay at St. Mungo's for a month before they obliviated him and let him go."

"St. Mungo's?"

Ron stared at him. "The wizarding hospital? You know, where you go when you need to see a healer?"

This time it was Harry's turn to shrug and shift uncomfortably. "I don't know much about the Wizarding World. My relatives who raised me were muggles."

Ron blinked. "Blimey." Suddenly a thought seemed to dawn on him. "You do know Quidditch though?"

"It's a sport?" Ron stared at him in horror.

"Quidditch isn't just a sport!"

Just as he was about to go on a spiel about how 'Quidditch isn't just a sport, it's the Best Thing In The World' there was a knock and the door to their compartment slid open. A woman poked her head through.

"Anything off the trolley dears?"

Harry took one look at the trolley laden with sweets and made up his mind. They could talk about the greatness of Quidditch while having a little snack.

Ron was about to turn his rat yellow when the door to the compartment opened.

"Hello, has anyone seen a toad? A boy called Neville's lost one. Oh, were you about to do magic? Let's see it then."

Harry exchanged a bewildered look with Ron as the bushy haired girl who'd just barged into their compartment crossed her arms and looked expectantly at Ron. He shrugged, cleared his throat and said,

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,

turn this stupid fat rat yellow!"

Absolutely nothing happened.

"I think his whiskers look a bit different?" Harry offered.

"I don't think that's a real spell, or if it is it's not a very good one is it? I've tried a few simple spells myself just for practice, and they've all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, so it was such a surprise to get my letter. A pleasant surprise of course. I'm Hermione, by the way, Hermione Granger."

"Uh, Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter."

"Are you really?" The girl, Granger asked Harry curiously. "I know all about you, of course - you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

"Am I?"

"Goodness didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me. Oh! You've been reading! May I take a look?"

Feeling rather numb, Harry nodded, and Granger daintily stepped over the many sweets littering the floor and carefully sat next to him, picking up his long-forgotten potions textbook. Harry felt a twinge of guilt at already forgetting what Evans had told him, but quickly reminded himself they hadn't even gotten to Hogwarts yet, and he had plenty of time to read before classes began.

"Potions is quite fascinating, isn't it? There are so many different ingredients that can make so many different potions, just by changing whether you cut, or dice, or crush them, and they can be used in so many different ways as well! I've read some books that say brewing potions is quite similar to cooking, but personally, I think cooking can hardly compare."

"Um, why's that?"

"Since even changing a single step in the instructions when brewing can drastically change the outcome of the potion of course! Even if you accidentally add the potatoes before the carrots, you can still make a perfectly fine curry, but if you accidentally add aconite before porcupine quills, the potion could have the opposite effect you intended!"

Harry blinked. "Oh." He could see Ron rolling his eyes and mouthing 'know-it-all' while Granger was engrossed in his textbook.

"Er, didn't you say you were looking for a toad?"

"Oh." Granger frowned slightly as she put down Harry's book. "I suppose I should go back to looking." With clear reluctance, she stood up and walked back towards the door. Just as she was about to leave she turned back and told them primly, "You should change into your robes, by the way, we're nearly there. Oh, and you have dirt on your nose. Right here." And with a tap on the side of her nose, Granger left.

"Know-it-all," Ron muttered under his breath with a scowl. "I don't really have dirt on my nose do I?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably, "Just a little? On the side?"

Ron's scowl deepened and he took to rubbing his nose with more force. "Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it." He said firmly. Harry nodded. It wasn't that he didn't like Granger, it was just... she felt like just a bit too much for him to keep up with on a daily basis.

"What house are your brothers in?"

"Gryffindor. Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

Harry hesitated a bit before saying, "I'm sure Slytherin can't be _too_ bad, after all about a quarter of all wizards and witches are Slytherins aren't they?"

"But You-Know-Who was in Slytherin!" Ron exclaimed in disbelief, "Everyone knows they're the most… keen… on the Dark Arts. Besides," he added, almost as an afterthought, "their house animal's a snake and snakes are sort of creepy don't you think?"

Personally, Harry didn't think there was anything wrong with snakes, but he was unwilling to start a disagreement with his first tentative friend so soon, so he just nodded and changed the subject back to Ron's family, and Ron immediately launched into a story about his brother Charlie and how he rescued a dragon from some smugglers. Even as he was listening to the story and nodding along at all the right placed, Harry couldn't help but worry - what if he ended up in Slytherin. Would they still be able to be friends then?

Stuffed with this sweet and that Ron was regaling Harry with the tale of how Ginny snuck into their broom shed in the middle of the night to practice flying when the door slid open again.

"I've heard rumors that Harry Potter's here, is it true?" The blond boy in the middle, whom Harry recognized from Madam Malkins, demanded.

"That's me?" Harry offered uncertainly as he looked up at the boy.

"So it's true then?" The boy said pompously, barely sparing a glance at Ron before turning back to Harry, completely disregarding the other boy. "That's Crabbe and that's Goyle. I'm Draco, Draco Malfoy. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Ron let out a snort. Immediately Malfoy turned towards him with a sneer. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. Red hair, hand-me-down robes, obviously a Weasley."

With that, Malfoy turned back to Harry and extended his hand, ignoring the way Ron's face and neck flushed.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." Malfoy said, looking at Harry expectantly with his hand held out, clearly under the belief that he would choose what was right. Pity their idea on what was right didn't seem to match.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Harry replied cooly, without even glancing at the extended hand. Malfoy blinked, then started turning a rather unflattering shade of red himself. He narrowed his eyes and told Harry angrily, "You'll regret this, Potter."

Harry replied steadily, "I don't think I will."

After Malfoy spun around and left the compartment with his two goons following behind him, Harry let out a huff and turned back to Ron, only to see the other boy looking at him with a mixture of relief and gratitude.

"Thanks, mate," he said with a cautious smile.

"It's fine. That's what friends are for anyway." Harry replied quickly, not quite able to look up. When he ventured a quick glance, he couldn't help the grin that broke through when he saw the widest smile he'd seen so far on Ron's face.

"Yeah, that's what friends are for," Ron said happily. "Hey, can I have another one of those chocolate frogs?"

* * *

Standing inside the Great Hall with all of the other first years, waiting to be sorted, Harry felt his insecurities rising once more. What if this was all just a big mistake. What if the hat said he didn't belong in Hogwarts. What if it decided he didn't belong in any of the houses - he was just Harry, and to be honest, he didn't feel particularly brave, or loyal, or clever, or even ambitious. He felt just a bit queasy, and if only the hat had mentioned a house for the nervous. At least then he'd know where he'd fit in.

"Gryffindor!"

Granger pulled off the hat and practically skipped towards the table at the very left side of the Great Hall. 'Oh, bloody hell' Ron groaned at his side while Harry looked on with no little envy and felt his stomach do another flipflop. Ron had been so sure she'd go to Ravenclaw and if he was wrong about her, what about Harry himself? He'd been so sure on the train that he and Harry would end up in Gryffindor together, and Harry had thought so himself too, but now he wasn't quite as certain.

"Slytherin!"

The hat had barely touched Malfoy's head before it was shouting out his house and Harry decided he really really needed to use the loo. Maybe, nobody would notice until the sorting was over and he could have his own sorting quietly when no one was looking?

"Potter, Harry."

The silence was deafening. _I'm living an oxy-whats-it_. Harry thought hysterically as he walked forward, his steps echoing in the silence. Nervously he sat on the edge of the stool and felt the hat drop on his head, obscuring his view of most of the Great Hall.

 _Hmm, difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, my goodness, yes - and a thirst to prove yourself… so where to put you?_

The image of Malfoy extending his hand and Ron sitting red-faced, his eyes wide and worried came to Harry's mind.

 _Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin -_

 _Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness, no doubt about that._

 _NOT SLYTHERIN, NOT SLYTHERIN, NOT SLYTHERIN._

 _No? I feel the need to point out that not every Slytherin is like_ him _or Mr. Malfoy - you've already met a fine example yourself, you know._

 _Please,_ Harry found himself begging, his eyes closed without him even realizing. _Please, I want_ friends _, real friends, I want to stay with Ron and he's probably going to Gryffindor, and they say every Slytherin's gone bad, and, just,_ please _, not Slytherin._

The hat went silent on his head, and just when Harry was about to despair, it spoke up once more,

 _Well then, if you feel so strongly about this. Though do remember, not all is what it seems to be._ "Gryffindor!"

Harry took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He shook hands with people in a daze, listened to the twins chant 'We've got Potter, we've got Potter' and shivered when the ghost across him pat his arm. He only came back to himself when the name 'Weasley, Ronald' was called and waited with bated breath and crossed fingers until the hat shouted 'Gryffindor!' and then he was cheering with the rest of _his_ house and clapping Ron on the back as hard as he could, all the while grinning from ear to ear.

After the oddest welcoming speech he'd ever heard, from the oddest headmaster he'd ever seen, dinner was served, and he was stuffing his face, albeit at a slower pace and with better manners than Ron. Even the way Sir Nicholas de M-something demonstrated exactly why he was called 'Nearly Headless Nick' couldn't put him off his food.

"The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable - he's the Slytherin ghost."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy, and across from him was -

"Evans?"

"Oh, so you've already met Mr. Evans then?" Sir Nicholas asked curiously. "Then again, I suppose you were bound to, that was a silly question, do forgive me."

"Why would - actually never mind. He's a Slytherin?" Harry couldn't keep his surprise from his voice. _So that's what the hat meant when it said I'd already met a Slytherin._ Evans was mainly talking to the boy sitting next to him, though once in a while he'd turn to the Bloody Baron or reply to whatever Malfoy was saying.

"Well, yes, didn't you know?" Percy asked, for some reason looking slightly uneasy.

"No, I thought he'd be a Ravenclaw or a Gryffindor, or well, even a Hufflepuff," Harry responded absently. There was an uncomfortable feeling in his chest as he realized he'd been thinking of the house of the person who'd helped him, in terms of evil, no-good, slimy snakes etc. based just on what Hagrid and Ron had told him. Although in his defense, Malfoy was a prat. Still, he could hardly judge an entire group of people for the acts of one.

 _Keep an open mind. Make your own opinions based on what you know._

"Can we talk to people from other houses during dinner?"

"It's not against the rules, of course, but - Harry?"

Harry ignored Percy's calls and Ron's startled 'Harry? Where are you going?' and made his way across the hall until he was standing behind Malfoy and across Evans.

"What do you want, Potter." Malfoy sneered at him.

"None of your business, Malfoy." Harry snapped back.

"Draco," Evans said sharply then turned towards Harry, "Is there something you need."

For a second Harry was taken aback at the indifferent, yet _wary_ way the not-quite-a-question was asked and took a moment to reply.

"No, I just, thought I'd come and say hello?" He ended up sounding like he was asking rather than telling but Evans barely reacted. He just watched him silently, politely, _indifferently_ , and Harry didn't understand _why_.

"You've said your hellos so you can leave now, Potter."

" _Draco,_ "

Malfoy scowled and snapped, "Well, I don't see you telling him to sod off."

Evans sighed, "Draco, please." Malfoy's eyes widened a fraction and he glanced between Evans and Harry once before his mouth thinned in a white line and he settled for glaring down at his food.

Harry felt his uneasiness grow when Evans looked up from where he was watching Malfoy with an almost _fond_ expression, only for it to become shuttered and closed when he met Harry's eyes.

"I think you should go back to your house for now." He nodded towards where Harry knew the Gryffindor table was. When he spared a glance behind him, half the Gryffindor table was craning their necks trying to watch what was going on, and the other half looked like they were ready to march to his defense, with Ron at their head. In fact, most of the school seemed to be interested in their conversation for some reason Harry couldn't fathom.

"Why are they acting like they think you're going to attack me?" Harry asked, completely bewildered.

"He doesn't know, does he."

Suddenly, one of the older Slytherin students spoke up. Harry blinked at him in surprise, noticing with growing anxiety, that he looked almost disturbingly delighted.

"Stay out of this, Yaxley."

"I've heard rumors that the Boy-Who-Lived had been raised by muggles and didn't know anything, but I didn't think they meant that literally, _Potter._ "

Harry blinked again, quite sure he'd heard wrong, except Evans had gone pale and blank, and _Malfoy_ was looking at Evans as if he was worried and -

"Potter?" Harry repeated numbly.

"We can talk outside -"

"What's wrong, _Potter_ -"

"I told you I prefer Evans -"

" - haven't told your _little brother_ you're a snake yet?"

" _Yaxley, shut up before I hex you._ "

What was he - this couldn't - he was lying. Ron did say Slytherins were lying gits- but Evans wasn't denying anything, but he'd been nice to him, why would he, _why didn't he say anything-_

"Brother?"

The area around them became silent, almost like when he was sorted, but Harry barely noticed this time. For a brief moment he wondered whether there was something wrong with his hearing - there was a dull sort of roaring in his ears, and there must have been something wrong with his glasses as well because he could have sworn Evans looked guilty but he shouldn't have any reason to -.

Harry felt cold.

"Was it funny."

"Harry -"

"I asked you whether it was funny."

"Harry, I can explain, after the feast -"

"You'll explain _now_."

Harry could barely recognize his own voice as he snarled at the boy he'd trusted, the boy who'd _lied_ to him, his own bloody _brother_ whom he never even knew existed, and he'd pretended to be a complete stranger when he _knew_.

And to think, he'd thought Malfoy could be the exception, not the rule.

"Five points from Gryffindor for causing a disturbance in the Great Hall."

"I wasn't-!"

"Another five points for talking back to a teacher. Try to learn to respect your betters, Potter." The black-haired professor said with clear disdain.

Nearly bursting with fury, Harry spun around, ignoring Evans' - no his lying _brother's_ \- angry 'Professor!' and stalked back towards the Gryffindor table. Ron was waiting for him anxiously, and he jumped up as soon as he saw the look on his face.

"What's wrong? Is it Malfoy? Did the stupid git do something?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"What -"

"Ron. Drop it." One of the twins cut in. Most of the students clearly had no idea what had happened but a few were exchanging worried looks.

"Harry," Percy started cautiously after a brief pause. Harry didn't bother to answer. "As ridiculous as this sounds… did you _not_ know about Evans?"

"If you mean did I not know he was my brother, then no, I did not bloody know."

If it had been any other situation Harry would have found the way Percy's eyes widened dramatically quite funny, but at the moment he couldn't quite find humor in anything. He heard one of the twins swear under his breath and one of the older students quietly but firmly told the other students to mind their own business. _I really ought to thank her later_ a part of his mind whispered, but at the moment, Harry just stabbed his tart with a knife and watched with dark satisfaction as bits went flying everywhere.

"I was under the impression you've met before. He, uh, didn't tell you then?"

"No."

"He's a git."

Harry blinked at Ron who was taking a bite into his pie as if he couldn't hear Percy's hissed ' _Ron!'._ When he met Harry's eyes Ron just shrugged and, thankfully, swallowed before he carried on.

"Well, he is you know." He scowled, then his expression cleared. "Hey, you should prank him or something, I'm sure Fred and George could help."

"Prank him," Harry repeated slowly, feeling his anger melt away into confused disbelief, "because he didn't tell me he was my brother."

Ron shrugged again. "Well, you can't take points or give him detention, can you, and trying to get him expelled feels like a bit too much, and well," for the first time Ron hesitated and gave Harry an apologetic look, "you can't really tell on him to your parents."

"... That was tactless."

"Sorry mate, couldn't find a better way to put it."

Harry stared at Ron and Ron met his gaze, steadily chewing through another mouthful of pie, until Harry started shaking his head slowly a small smile tugging at his lips. Ron grinned and slung his arm around his shoulders.

"Better?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, loads." The smile slipped a bit as he reached for his pumpkin juice and chugged down what was left. "I just, I just don't understand why he didn't tell me."

"He's a Slytherin."

"Actually, he isn't that bad for a snake -"

"You could do much worse -"

"With a Ravenclaw -"

"Or even a Hufflepuff."

The twins, who'd seated them across from Harry after Nick had left, spoke in tandem, watching Harry like a pair of hawks. Harry felt a swell of irritation but squashed it down and replied a bit more curtly than he'd meant to.

"I'll be the judge of that."

The twins exchanged looks but then one of them sighed, "Just saying."

"Try not to mutilate your tart Harrykins." The other added before the two got up and moved away. Ron scowled at their backs.

Feeling much better than before, Harry surreptitiously dared a glance back towards the Slytherin table but almost immediately turned back to his half mangled tart. Evans was talking with his housemates again, almost as if he was completely unaffected by what had just happened. Like he didn't care about Harry at all. Harry's left hand clenched around his robes under the table. Figures.

"Harry, you alright?"

Harry looked up at Ron's worried face and forced a smile. It turned into something more genuine when Ron raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. He still had a smudge of dirt on his nose.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

 _It isn't like anything is going to really change._ Harry thought to himself firmly as he finished off the rest of his disfigured, but still tasty, tart. _I came to Hogwarts without family in the first place. It doesn't matter if he doesn't care._ Ron reached forward and grabbed a couple of tarts just as the tables cleared. He handed one to Harry.

After all, who needs brothers when they have friends?

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, first fic, got all excited and impatient and probably didn't revise it half as much as I should have to be honest, but I'm pretty sure there's no major spelling or grammatical errors. English isn't my first language and what English I know, I've learned in the US so I'm not sure how 'British' I came off as. Hopefully not too weird. Some of the dialogue, especially Draco's and Hermione's come directly from the book, though I might have tweaked it a bit. Also, in future chapters, I'm going to try and keep the parts where the plot hasn't changed to a minimum, so there's that.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Cheers.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

The first week at Hogwarts was quite literally magical _._ The moving staircases, the appearing and disappearing meals, the talking portraits, the ghosts, the bloody _poltergeist_. Not to mention the classes. They were absolutely _brilliant._

Well, to be fair, Harry hasn't had all his classes yet so he supposed he couldn't really say they were _all_ brilliant, but they were going to learn how to make things _fly_ in Charms, and Professor McGonagall could turn into a _cat_ , and History of Magic was taught by an actual _ghost,_ albeit a bit of a boring one.

And best of all, he had a _friend_. One that wasn't going to be chased off by Dudley, or warned away from him by Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon, or shun him for being a 'freak'. (Sometimes, when he lay in bed listening to Seamus snore, he admitted to himself that out of the three, the last possibility frightened him the most). After the Welcoming Feast, Ron had stuck by him and that made Harry feel bright and warm inside in a way he would never ever admit to anyone.

As for Evans. Well. He tried not to think about him as much as possible. He had asked to see Harry after the Feast, but Harry turned him down then, and each and every time he asked afterward as well. At the time, Ron and Percy and basically everyone else had assured him he was well within his rights to be angry and refuse to see Evans, but he still felt a bit guilty whenever he turned him away the first two days. Then, just as he felt like he was ready to listen to whatever he had to say, Evans just _stopped._ (Was that all he was worth? Two days of half-hearted attempts?)

Now, whenever they met in the halls, Evans barely even glanced at him. No stopping for hellos, no asking for a moment to talk, no trying to explain. He just walked by without even pausing. So that's what Harry did too. When it looked like this was going to set the tone of their relationship permanently, Percy tried to get him to talk to him, as did the twins, and now, even Granger was telling him he needed to talk to his brother (did he count as a brother if Harry never thought of him as one?)

"Really, Harry, I'd think you'd be more mature."

Harry scowled down at his transfiguration textbook (he hated how it felt like he was listening to _his_ advice but even he couldn't deny it was _good_ advice, despite Ron trying to convince him otherwise ' _You're not listening to him are you? He's a snake! Come on Harry, I'll teach you wizarding chess, it'll be loads more fun!'_ ) and tried not to snap back at Granger. They were in the common room and Granger was standing in front of him with her hands on her hips looking disapproving.

"Look, Granger," Harry ignored the way Granger flinched slightly at the use of her last name, "he's my - problem, and I'll deal with him however I want. Besides, why should _I_ be the mature one, he's the lying git."

"Well, I suppose - but he might have a reason, you really should at least give him a chance to explain!"

Finally, at the end of his tether, Harry slapped his book shut and angrily got to his feet. Ron, who'd been dozing off next to him, let out a yelp of surprise at the sound and looked around wildly before freezing when he saw Harry facing off against Granger.

"You're the one who was telling me I had a bloody right to not talk to him if I didn't want to!"

Granger gave a start of surprise at his outburst, but then bristled and shouted right back, "Well, yes, but you haven't talked at all since and it's been _days_ , and he's still your brother! Which you might have known if you'd just picked up a book!"

"I didn't even know about magic till I got my letter! How was I supposed to know my family relations was in _Modern Magical History_ or, or, well - how was I supposed to know!"

" _I_ didn't know about magic either, and I still knew!"

"And I didn't see you telling me either!"

"I thought you knew, obviously!"

"Alright, alright, that's quite enough!" Percy shouted over them and firmly but gently pulled the two apart. They were both still seething even with Percy frowning down at them. "Hermione, it's Harry's choice, if he doesn't want to talk to Evans he doesn't have to, and Harry, Hermione isn't entirely wrong, you _do_ have to talk to him sooner or later preferably sooner, so I hope that settles it, and really stop yelling, or at the very least take it somewhere else. Some of us are actually trying to study and you're not helping _._ "

There were a couple of muttered agreements mostly from the seventh years. Granger blushed and hastily apologized, Harry following suit a bit more sullenly. Once it looked like they were no longer at each other's throats, Percy sighed and let them go with a final frown and a warning to try and keep the fights private.

"I can't believe she said that - how was I supposed to know if I've never met him before and no one ever told me!" Harry raged quietly as he and Ron went up to their dorms.

"I know mate," Ron said emphatically at his side, "She's always acting like she knows everything and is better than the rest of us."

"Well, it's right annoying, that's what it is."

"Too right, she should have been sorted into Ravenclaw."

By the time they had to go to class, Harry and Ron had developed from angrily listing Granger's faults to cheerfully cursing Binns and how there couldn't possibly be anyone worse at teaching (though they both agreed Professor Quirrell was a close second) so Harry was feeling tentatively optimistic about potions despite the fact that it was with the Slytherins, and how the older students, especially the twins, told them the professor could be positively nasty at times and favored the Slytherins at all times. He'd made sure to skim through the entire textbook once, and he'd read the first three chapters at least twice, so even though he wasn't up to quoting it like Granger apparently could, he was confident that he at least knew the material.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

 _Little wand-waving… bewitching the mind, ensnaring senses… fame, glory, stop death…_ Harry scrambled to keep up, uncaring of the blotches of ink he left on his parchment and wrote down as much as he could. Ron nudged his side and he looked up, just as he finished taking notes and found Professor Snape looking down at him with barely disguised disgust. He quickly put down the quill and straightened, trying to look attentive.

"Ah, yes," Professor Snape said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new - _celebrity_."

Harry wasn't quite sure as to how he was supposed to respond to that so he stayed silent. The professor sneered at him then suddenly barked out,

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

 _Asphodel, asphodel, I'm sure I've read of asphodel somewhere?!_ Harry desperately racked his mind but in the end, couldn't answer.

"I don't know, sir."

Professor Snape's lips curled into a sneer, "Fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again, Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

This one, Harry could answer. He remembered reading about bezoars in the third chapter of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, and with great relief he said,

"In the stomach of a goat, sir." Suddenly, it occurred to him that the professor could be asking about lab safety and Harry hastily tagged on, "Or I suppose the cupboard of a potions lab, sir."

Harry didn't think it was possible for someone to look so displeased with what he knew was at least partially the right answer. Granger lowering her hand was verification.

"Five points for your cheek, Potter."

While Harry was gaping at the unfairness of the situation, Professor Snape asked once more,

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Fuming, Harry replied, "I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

"Another five points from Gryffindor. I should think that after the Welcoming Feast, you would have learned to show more restraint, Potter." With that final jab, Snape whirled around and snapped out,

"Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

Those that already had parchment and a quill out began to write, while those who didn't quickly began to look through their bags. Still fuming with anger that stemmed partly from the unfairness, and partly from the embarrassment of being unable to answer two of the questions, Harry jotted down his notes a bit more violently than he intended and ripped through his parchment.

Biting back a curse, he bit down on his lip and was about to fish out another piece of parchment when someone tapped his arm. He turned to the side in surprise and found to his astonishment, Neville holding out a piece of parchment. The slightly chubby boy looked around nervously before leaning in to whisper,

"Harry, I just, uh, wanted to let you know that, um, that I think Professor Snape was horribly unfair to you and I don't blame you for the points." He let out in a rush and quickly pulled away before Snape could notice. From next to him Seamus nodded and mouthed out what Harry assumed was 'Same here, mate'. Harry only just had time to smile in thanks, before Snape was barking out instructions on how to brew a potion to cure boils.

Unfortunately, most of Harry's enthusiasm for potions had died a tragic death so his potion ended up darker and thicker than it was supposed to, and somehow he'd managed to lose Gryffindor another five points for apparently purposefully letting Neville and Seamus brew their potion wrong.

As Harry stalked out of the classroom Ron told him loudly, "It's alright, Harry. Everyone knows Snape's just being nasty." A couple of other students nodded their agreement. To Harry's surprise, Granger was one of the most vocal.

"I can't believe he's a teacher! He was obviously biased against Gryffindors and him singling you out like that was completely uncalled for! Don't worry Harry, I'll tell the older students it wasn't your fault we lost points." She added swiftly. Not really in the best mood, Harry just nodded. If this was what Slytherin _adults_ were like, he was quite glad he'd managed to talk the hat into sorting him into Gryffindor.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Harry and Ron trudged across the grounds to Hagrid's house. Hagrid was delighted by the company, and he immediately pulled out a couple of rock cakes and a cup of tea for each of them. After a careful bite nearly broke a couple of his teeth, Harry put down his and pretended to be fully engrossed in the conversation. He regretted this decision when the conversation almost inevitably turned to his brother.

"Blimey, 'Arry, I didn' know yeh've never heard abou' Evans, if I did I'd have warned yeh," said Hagrid as he scratched Fang behind the ears.

"'Warned' me?"

"Eh, maybe not 'warned', but I still coulda' told yeh abou' him. Save yeh the shock an' all."

Harry dropped his gaze down at his hands and bit back a scowl like he always did recently whenever the topic of his brother came up. Hagrid peered at him in concern before continuing,

"He's really not tha' bad though, even if he 'as been raised by the Malfoys, he doesn' - "

"He's been raised by the Malfoys?!" Harry choked out as Ron started to cough.

Hagrid blanched, "Yeh didn' know?"

"The only thing I know about him is that his name's Evans Potter, he's a second year Slytherin, and apparently, he's been raised by the Malfoys." Harry grit out, "So I'd appreciate it if someone would just tell me everything assuming I don't know anything."

Hagrid winced and looked to Ron almost pleadingly. Ron shrugged and said defensively, "All I know is that Harry has a brother and he's a Slytherin," He paused for a moment then looked at Harry, "It was all over the _Daily Prophet_ last year when he was sorted, you see. Brother of the Boy-Who-Lived, slated to become the next Dark Lord or something. It died down a couple of months later though."

When both Harry and Ron turned to look at Hagrid, he fidgeted a bit before saying hastily, "Well, his name's actually Gerin, not Evans, he just wen' around the whole of last year tellin' people he preferred Evans, so it sorta stuck."

Harry's mouth tightened, "So he's been lying about his name too."

"No, no," Hagrid was quick to protest, "I just told yeh, he tells everyone to call him Evans, and everyone does, so it wasn' really a lie. Was it?" Hagrid tacked on anxiously looking at Ron who just shrugged uncomfortably.

"If he said that knowing I'd assume his first name is Evans, I'd say that's lying." Harry snapped out. Both Hagrid and Ron flinched and Harry felt a twinge of guilt at taking out his anger on his two friends. He took in a deep breath, "Sorry," he said, awkwardly.

"It's fine mate," Ron was quick to assure him, and Hagrid nodded fervently in agreement.

"So," Hagrid said hesitantly after a slight pause, "What do yeh want to know 'Arry?"

Harry stilled. To be honest, he didn't really know what it was he wanted to know. Would it make a difference if he knew what was Evans' ( _Gerin,_ a very small, very well hidden part of his mind that still did a little jig whenever he thought about his brother whispered _. You have a_ brother _and his name is_ Gerin) favorite color, or when his birthday was, or whether he had an owl or a cat? ( _No,_ a different part whispered, this one buried even more deeply than the former, _those things don't matter, but why_ he _got to stay in the Wizarding World while_ I _had to stay with the Dursleys matters, and why he_ _never even bothered to let me know he existed matters._ )

"I… I don't actually know," Harry admitted. "It's just, I've never even imagined I'd have a brother. I mean, I used to imagine having a relative somewhere who'd take me away from the Dursleys, but that was when I was a kid. And when I was thinking 'relative' I was thinking more in the terms of an unknown aunt or uncle."

Hagrid gave Harry a look he couldn't quite decipher. He hoped it wasn't pity.

"Suddenly havin' a brother would be quite a shock," Hagrid said. "D'yeh want to know how his first day of potions wen'?"

Harry blinked in surprise at the unexpected turn the conversation took. "Potions?"

"Yeh were talking about how yeh think Professor Snape hates yeh." Hagrid reminded him. "Not that I'm sayin' he does of course." He added on hastily.

"...Okay," said Harry slowly, "does Snape hate him too?" he asked as the thought occurred to him.

"I told yeh, Professor Snape doesn't hate yeh, he just doesn' like teachin' - an' that's not important. He was, er, a bi' of a git to Evans too at first. Evans' first potions class went almost as badly as yeh'rs did actually."

"But he's a Slytherin," Ron pointed out next to Harry. "Snape wouldn't have taken points off a Slytherin."

" _Professor_ Snape, an' actually he did. Took twenty points in one class I think."

Harry gaped, " _Twenty?_ "

Hagrid chuckled, "Students were talkin' for days after," he said. "'Parrently, Professor Snape wanted to call him Potter, and 'e insisted on being called Evans. Got detention too." He added, almost as an afterthought.

"But, but he's a Slytherin! Fred and George always said Snape, fine, Professor Snape never told off the Slytherins." Ron argued.

"Well, 'e did for Evans," Hagrid said with a shrug and took a bite out of a rock cake. "They say Professor Snape nearly wen' apoplectic wi' rage. Took 'im months to finally call 'im, Evans. I suppose all his polite 'It's Evans, sir.' won out in th' end."

"No wonder the twins like him," said Ron. "Hey," he turned to Harry with a thoughtful look on his face, "Do you think Snape would stop being a git if you went all polite on him?"

"Polite?" Harry grimaced.

"Tha's a good idea," Hagrid said quickly, "If it worked for Evans, it should work for yeh."

"But he's a Slytherin, and I'm a Gryffindor." Harry pointed out.

"But you didn't openly argue with him." Ron reminded him. When Harry gave him a dry look he winced and amended himself, "Well, you didn't start it."

Harry frowned, "Do you really think it would work?"

"Doing the unexpected helps you win games in chess," Ron said. "Besides, there's no harm in trying. He can't take off points or give you detention for being polite."

"I suppose," Harry acquiesced reluctantly. He really didn't want to be polite to Snape, but neither did he want to lose Gryffindor more points. "Fine," Harry said, his mind made up, "I'll try to play nice but if he starts insulting my parents or my friends I'm not taking that lying down."

"Fair enough." Ron agreed.

"He won't be badmouthin' your parents 'Arry." Hagrid said, so seriously that Harry couldn't help but wonder whether Hagrid knew something about Snape and his parents that he wasn't telling him. Before he could ask, though, a cutting from the _Daily Prophet_ caught Ron's eye and they moved on to discussing the break-in in Gringotts until Hagrid finally threw them both out, stating it was nearly time for dinner and they ought to get going. They couldn't argue with that when their stomachs started growling, so with hasty goodbyes and promises to come back to visit again (and hopefully manage to interrogate Hagrid more on what it was that was nearly stolen from Gringotts) they ran back to the castle through the thin mist of rain that had just begun to fall.

* * *

Soon enough, the first years had gotten used to the castle, with all its corridors, hidden rooms, moving staircases, and so on. And far too soon it was Thursday, the day the Gryffindor first years were going to learn how to fly on a broom. With the Slytherins. And to think, Harry had been looking forward to learning how to fly.

"I'm going to make a fool out of myself in front of Malfoy," Harry whispered to Ron anxiously as the Gryffindor first years made their way to the grounds opposite the Forbidden Forest. Granger was prattling on about all the tips she'd read in books on how to fly and Neville and, not quite as openly, Harry were hanging off her every word.

"I told you mate, it's going to be fine. He won't dare say anything with a professor there." Ron whispered back. From where they were, Harry could make out a gaggle of students, probably the Slytherins, and a couple of what he assumed were broomsticks on the ground. The professor caught sight of them and impatiently waved them over.

"Hurry up now! We haven't got all day!"

Quickly, the Gryffindors scampered over and got into a line opposite the Slytherins, each automatically standing next to a broom.

"Are we all here now? No one missing? Excellent. You may call me Madam Hooch and - Mr. Evans, is there something you needed?"

Harry stiffened. _Go away, go away._

"No, madam, I just saw your class and thought perhaps I could help? If you don't mind of course." Evans said politely, with a pleasant smile on his face.

Madam Hooch beamed, "Of course not dear, that would be lovely."

 _Great,_ Harry thought sourly as Madam Hooch turned back to the first years and told them to hold out a hand over their brooms and say 'up'. _Now Evans can laugh at me too._

"Up!"

Harry just barely managed to suppress a jolt of surprise when his broom immediately leaped to his hand, his being one of the few that did. Granger's broom was rolling around on the ground while Neville's didn't even move. To his displeasure, Malfoy was one of the few holding his broom with a smug look on his face. After a few minutes where Madam Hooch and Evans went around instructing students on how to call their brooms, Madam Hooch taught them how to mount them without sliding off the other end.

"No, no, you can't hold your broom like that, you'll break your wrist if you have to make a quick turn."

"I've been doing it like that for years," Malfoy protested when Madam Hooch corrected his grip.

"Then you've been doing it wrong for years," She informed him promptly before leaving to coax Neville into loosening his grip a bit. To Harry and Ron's delight, Malfoy turned a very interesting shade of red. Harry's grin made a quick retreat when Evans approached them.

"I told you your grip looked off." Evans admonished Malfoy, who made a face at him.

"You don't even like flying! How was I supposed to know you actually knew anything about grips." Malfoy objected.

"Maybe because I actually learned last year." He retorted dryly. Malfoy just sniffed and looking rather put out, turned away. Evans sighed and turned to Hermione, nodded in approval at her grip, and moved on to Ron, then finally, Harry. Harry kept his eyes fixed on the ground, refusing to acknowledge him. He could see Evans' shoes, leather, clean and polished, obviously expensive, completely unlike his own dirty, worn, hand-me-down sneakers from when Dudley was nine. The shoes stopped in front of Harry and turned towards him. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Malfoy tense, though the reason as to why he would be upset was beyond him.

 _Get on with it._

"Well done, Harry."

His head snapped up in surprise before he could stop himself. His eyes met Evans' (hazel, his eyes were hazel, like his dad maybe?) and for a second they held until Evans looked away and moved on to Dean. Completely bewildered, Harry exchanged a look with Ron, who looked just as confused as him. Across from them, Malfoy scowled and snapped at Goyle, ('No, you idiot, not like _that_! Why do I even bother putting up with you') while Madam Hooch, finally satisfied with their positions, and grips, and whatever else was needed to be checked before flying, blew her whistle.

"Attention! Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"

And of course, something had to go wrong. Before the whistle even touched her lips, Neville, terrified of being left behind, kicked off as hard as he could and rose, and rose, and rose, until he inevitably panicked and slipped off his broom. There were shouts of alarm, from Gryffindors and Slytherins alike. Madam Hooch had her wand out, as did Evans, and just before Neville could hit the ground, he seemed to freeze in the air, momentarily, before falling with a horrible thud.

"Out of my way, out of my way!" Madam Hooch pushed forward through the throng of students surrounding a whimpering Neville.

"Should I alert Madam Pomfrey?" Evans asked from her side.

"That won't be necessary, I'll be taking Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing." Madam Hooch replied, her face as white as a sheet. "Ten points to Slytherin for quick reflexes and an excellent use of the cushioning charm." She wrapped her arm around Neville's waist and steadied the boy before turning to level a glare at each and every one of the first years.

"None of you is to move, and you'll leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Mr. Evans, you're in charge, children, I expect you to listen to Mr. Evans while I'm gone. Come on, dear."

Almost as soon as they entered the castle, Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

"Draco," The laughter that had been about to build died off, at Evans' sharp tone. For a moment Malfoy looked hesitant, but then he met Harry's eye and his jaw clenched.

"Don't be such a bore, Gerin. You have to admit - Longbottom falling off his broom was hilarious." His eyes slid toward Harry, "Almost as funny as watching Potter lose fifteen points in one class."

Harry jerked forward in anger, but Dean and Ron held him back.

"He's just trying to get a rise out of you, ignore him." Ron hissed when Harry tried to pull away.

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Parvarti, as she took a step forward. "Neville could have been hurt badly from that fall, it isn't funny."

"Sticking up for Longbottom?" Malfoy said, mockingly. "Really, Patil? _Longbottom?_ "

"Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies." Parkinson agreed. "Thought you'd be more interested in someone who actually knew one end of a wand from the other."

"Draco, Pansy, that's enough." Evans cut in. "I expect you to act like Slytherins, not common ruffians itching for a fight."

At the older boy's rebuke, Parkinson flushed red with humiliation and Malfoy flared up in anger.

"Like you have a right to talk about acting like Slytherins when you're taking their side! They're _Gryffindors_ for Merlin's sake!"

"Draco!" Evans hissed sharply. He glanced around the group, taking in the mix of curious and indignant faces of both houses and lowered his voice so Harry had to strain his ears to hear him. "I'm not going to argue with you in public _._ "

"Why not? Scared your true house loyalties will come out?" Malfoy pressed on. Then something caught his eye and he bent down to pick up a small glass ball.

"Look, it's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him!"

"Draco -"

"Give that here, Malfoy," unable to hold himself back any longer, Harry took a step forward. Everyone stopped talking. Even Evans had fallen silent, watching the two younger boys with an unreadable look on his face.

Malfoy glanced at Evans again, before seeming to make up his mind, and smirked. "I don't think so. I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?"

"Draco!" "Give it _here_!"

Ignoring the shouts of both Harry and Evans, Malfoy jumped onto his broom, and to Harry's dismay, he found that he could fly quite well, and soon he was level with the topmost branches of an oak.

Harry grabbed his broom.

"Harry James Potter, don't you dare -!"

Harry ignored Evans and jumped onto his broom and - he was flying, higher than Neville had risen before he'd fallen off his broom, the air rushing through his hair, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was _flying_ and, to his astonished delight, he flew _well_ , almost like he had been born to it. He pulled up the front of his broom and soon he was facing Malfoy, everyone else on the ground a mere afterthought.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Like you could." Malfoy sneered, but the way he kept glancing down nervously made Harry think he wasn't half as confident as he sounded.

Harry leaned forward and grabbed his broom tightly, and it shot towards Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy just barely managed to twist to the side and get out of the way.

"Of all the ridiculous, reckless, _stupid_ things you could do - !"

Both Harry and Malfoy faltered when Evans flew up to them, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping the handle of his broom. From below, they could hear shouting, half of the students egging them on, the other half begging them to come down before they got hurt.

"What are you doing here?! You don't like heights!" Malfoy spluttered.

"Trying to keep you two idiots from getting yourself killed!" He snapped back, his face as white as his knuckles. Evans was keeping his eyes fixed on Malfoy, very clearly refusing to look down. "Both of you, on the ground. _Now_."

Looking extremely unhappy, Malfoy made a move as if to land, but then suddenly, a mulish expression crossed his face, and before either Harry or Evans could do anything, he drew back his arm and threw Neville's remembrall as hard as he could.

Harry saw the small glass ball rise then begin to fall. He tilted the tip of his broom down and then he was moving towards the ground at a speed much higher than when Neville fell off his broom. He could hear the girls scream, Evans shout, the air rushing past him, and the roaring in his ears in the background. Thirty feet, twenty feet, ten feet. His fingers closed around the Remembrall and just before he could hit the ground with what would have been a horrifying splat, he pulled up as hard as he could and tumbled to the ground safely, amidst the cheers of the other Gryffindors.

"HARRY POTTER!"

Harry felt his stomach plummet as Professor McGonagall strode across the grounds, her lips stretched in a tight, unhappy line. Next to him, Evans landed with a slight thud and quickly started to speak.

"Professor, I can explain -"

"Mr. Evans! I am extremely disappointed in you for letting first years, oh Merlin, first years in their first flying class get up to such nonsense! Five points from Slytherin!"

Evans winced and fell back while Professor McGonagall whipped around to face Harry.

" _Never -_ in all my time at Hogwarts - how _dare_ you - might have broken your neck -"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor -"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil -"

"Malfoy started it -"

"That's _enough_ , Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now. Mr. Evans, I expect you to deal with Mr. Malfoy accordingly."

"Yes, professor, I'll be taking him to Professor Snape." Evans said grimly, sending a dark look towards Malfoy who was looking part guilty, and part terrified.

Professor McGonagall nodded at him stiffly, then set off towards the castle at a brisk pace. Harry trailed after her with his head down and hands anxiously pulling at his sleeves. He followed her into the castle, up a flight of stairs, through the corridors, bypassing a number of doors before stopping in front of a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood?

A burly fifth-year boy came out of Professor Flitwick's classroom looking confused.

"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and she led them into an empty classroom. Wood was sending Harry curious looks during the entire short walk. When they entered the room, the professor shut the doors and turned to face the two of them. She was beaming.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood - I've found you a Seeker."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

"You're joking."

"I'm not joking."

Harry cheerfully slathered butter over his piece of toast and bit into it, basking in Ron's awe and delight.

" _Seeker?_ But first years _never -_ you must be the youngest house player in about -"

"- a century," Harry finished for him, reaching out for a sausage. "Wood told me."

Ron grinned at him but then a concerned frown marred his face, "But how are you going to get a decent broom? You can't use one of the school's, they're ancient."

"I dunno," Harry shrugged uncertainly, his good mood breaking a bit. "I suppose I'll think of something."

"Potter!"

Ron scowled and Harry rolled his eyes before turning around in his seat to face Malfoy. The Slytherin stalked forward, pushing aside a couple of Hufflepuffs in their year who glared at him before continuing on with their conversation, though they kept glancing over at them, curiosity winning out over irritation. Malfoy stood in front of Harry, his fists clenched inside the sleeves of his robes.

"I'll make you regret ever showing your sorry face at Hogwarts." He snarled.

"What," Harry scoffed, "going to tell daddy I beat you at flying?"

Malfoy was practically trembling in rage. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle exchanged uncertain glances and Crabbe took a small step forward. A couple of other students had heard the altercation and were watching on in curiosity as well.

"I lost Slytherin twenty points because of you!" Malfoy shouted. Harry noticed his hand twitch, and there, just beneath the sleeve of his robe, he could see the tip of his wand peeking out. Immediately Harry leaped to his feet, his own wand in his hand. He could hear clattering as Ron hastily put down his fork and knife, and jumped up as well, fumbling with his hand in his pocket to get his wand out.

"What is the meaning of this!"

The students nearby who had been watching the proceedings with avid interest quickly turned away, pretending they had been immersed in a conversation, as Professor McGonagall bore down on the group of first years, Professor Snape just a few steps behind.

"Dueling! In the Great Hall! Fifteen points from Gryffindor and Slytherin each, and Mr. Potter, if you cannot watch your conduct, I may as well change my mind and tell Mr. Wood he needs to look for another Seeker! Now sit down, you too Mr. Wealsey, and Mr. Malfoy, I expect you to return to your house at once!"

"Seeker?! You can't mean you made Potter, Seeker?"

"At once, Mr. Malfoy." Professor McGonagall leveled Malfoy with an angry look before turning back and striding towards the High Table. Professor Snape, who had been standing beside Professor McGonagall with an undecipherable look on his face, let his cold, dark gaze slowly pass over the students clustered around the group until they shuffled away. As soon as the crowd that had gathered had dispersed, Snape leveled his black eyes on Harry.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for drawing your wand on a fellow student."

Harry felt his face flush red in anger while a look of satisfaction crossed Malfoy's face.

"Malfoy had his wand out too!"

"Another five points for talking back to a teacher, do you never learn, Potter?"

With that scathing remark, the professor spun around, his black cape encircling him like the wings of a bat and gestured for Malfoy to go over to the Slytherin table. Malfoy sent a last glare full of loathing at Harry before stalking off towards his house.

"He's not entirely wrong, you know," Harry whipped around in his seat to stare at Granger in disbelief. Granger, however, wasn't even looking at him. She was frowning as she watched Malfoy's retreating back.

"What do you mean he wasn't wrong, Malfoy started it!" Ron exclaimed in disbelief.

"No, not that, I meant Malfoy. Both Harry and Malfoy broke the rules for the same thing, and Malfoy got punished while Harry got rewarded. That's a bit… unfair." She paused. "Assuming you did make Seeker?"

When Harry didn't answer immediately, Granger's face fell, almost as if she had been hoping he'd say that she'd misunderstood, and no, he didn't make the Quidditch team. She chewed on her lower lip, darting glances at the High Table and the Slytherin table before lowering her head, and silently resumed eating, a habit she'd gained after the first few days at school. Harry sat down slowly and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Now that he thought of it, it did seem a bit unfair that he got to play Quidditch for breaking the rules while Malfoy lost points. He sneaked a glance behind him and noticed Malfoy sitting at the end of the Slytherin table with his shoulders hunched slightly. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting across from him, and everyone else was clearly not talking to him. Everyone, that is, except for Evans apparently. What sympathy and guilt Harry may have felt for Malfoy were overridden by an ugly emotion when Evans approached Malfoy, taking a seat next to him, and leaned over, clearly trying to cheer him up. Even as Harry watched, Malfoy straightened in his seat and looked at the older boy with a hesitant smile, one that grew when Evans reached over and dumped a whole pile of peas on his plate. Evans gave him that small crooked smile of his before briefly gripping his arm, then continued eating, as if encouraging Malfoy was an everyday occurrence.

Harry quickly turned away from the scene and stabbed his sausage with his fork. There was a difference between him and Malfoy, he reminded himself firmly. Malfoy had been acting like a git, stealing Neville's Remembrall, while all he'd been trying to do was get it back. Well, yes, Professor McGonagall didn't exactly know that before making him Seeker, but surely Snape did and that's why Malfoy got punished? Though he supposed Professor McGonagall should have asked first like Snape obviously did... Harry barely nibbled on the sausage before lowering his hand, his previous appetite all but gone. Yes, he had to admit to himself glumly. It did look a lot like Professor McGonagall was biased for him, probably because he was in her house. He put down his fork with a sigh.

"I think," he said slowly with a heavy heart, "I'll ask Professor McGonagall whether I can join the team next year."

Ron's jaw fell open, bits of half-eaten potatoes showing through.

"But - Seeker? Youngest in a century? What about the cup?"

Dean and Seamus, who had been stunned into a brief silence immediately pitched in as well.

"Is it Malfoy? Ignore him, he's just being a whiny prat."

"But it's an honor, Harry! Getting on the team, an honor! You can't just throw that away!"

Harry shook his head, his resolve strengthening. "Gra- Hermione's right, it's not fair. I am grateful and I do want to be on the Quidditch team, but I think I can settle for not getting any points taken." Hermione looked up in surprise when she heard her name, and by the time Harry had finished speaking, she was beaming at him and Neville nodded slowly with a thoughtful look on his face. Ron frowned but also nodded reluctantly.

"I suppose I can see where you're coming from, mate, though I do wish you'd keep the Seeker position." He said wistfully. "After dinner then?"

"After dinner." Harry agreed, nodding decisively and with great deliberation put those thoughts aside and once again picked up his sausage.

A little less than an hour later, Harry and Ron noticed Professor McGonagall stand up to leave, and hastily shoved a couple extra treats in their pockets and ran for the entrance of the Great Hall.

"Professor!"

Professor McGonagall gave a start and turned around looking rather surprised to be facing the two first years.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, is there something you needed?"

Ron nudged Harry forward with his elbow nearly making him trip over his own feet. Harry cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice from wavering, "No, er, yes, professor. It's just, about being Seeker, er…"

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows, "If this is about getting a broom, Mr. Potter, I assure you there will be an exception made and it will be taken care of so you needn't worry -"

"No, it's not about that, I -" Harry had to force himself to continue. This was almost as hard as that time he got a higher score than Dudley and had to lie to his primary teacher and tell her he cheated. Though not quite as hard seeing as this time he felt like he was doing the right thing. "I've been thinking and, I don't think I should be Seeker, Professor."

Professor McGonagall looked stunned. "But why - if this is about your studies Mr. Potter I assure you I will see to it that Wood doesn't get carried away -"

"I'm not worried about my grades," to be honest the fact that he'd have less time to study hadn't even occurred to him, "It's, I don't think it'd be fair if I made Seeker for breaking the rules," Harry admitted quietly.

Professor McGonagall's stern demeanor softened immediately and she looked almost proud when she gave him a rare smile. "Two points for Gryffindor for the courage to give up what you want to stand up for what you believe is right," She paused before continuing, "though I'm sorry to hear that you don't want to be Seeker. Are you quite sure about this?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry replied firmly.

"Very well then," She said with a sigh, "I do hope you're planning on trying for the position next year then?"

"Of course, ma'am. I think flying's my favorite part of being magic," Harry admitted with a shy smile. Professor McGonagall smiled back.

"Just like your father,"

"Was he a good flier?" Harry asked her eagerly. It was the first time anyone had mentioned his parents beyond the lines of 'they were good people, Harry, their sacrifices will always be remembered'.

"He was a Chaser," She responded with a fond smile, "Quite good at it too." Before Harry could ask anything further, a gaggle of Ravenclaws left the Great Hall, preventing further inquiries.

"Well then, if that's all Mr. Potter, I'm afraid I'll have to leave to break the news to Mr. Wood. He'll be most disappointed," the Professor said dryly. "Up to your common rooms now, you too Mr. Weasley,"

"Yes, Professor," the two boys chorused dutifully and quickly made their way up the stairs to the tower. They knew enough about Gryffindor's Quidditch team from hearing from the twins that they knew they didn't want to be there when Wood got the news.

* * *

"You can't be serious!"

"I'm really, really sorry but I already told Professor McGonagall no," Harry couldn't keep himself from sounding exasperated as he glanced behind Oliver towards where Ron and Hermione were waiting impatiently. After Hermione had heard Harry had gone to Professor McGonagall to resign from his position as Seeker (which he'd only really had for an hour) she'd offered to help him and Ron with their essay for History of Magic that they'd been struggling with. Ron had been a bit reluctant at first but after Harry's persistent cajoling, agreed in the end. After all, Hermione hadn't actually done anything wrong, per se. She'd just been a bit bossy and tried to poke her nose into everything. Which, now that he'd gotten to talk to her a bit more, Harry suspected was most probably out of loneliness than anything else. He'd seen how Parvati and Lavender stuck together to gossip over the latest article in _Witch Weekly_ while Hermione fussed over Transfiguration. Having had no friends himself until entering Hogwarts, Harry could sympathize and he made it a point to include her in his and Ron's conversations when he could. Not to mention he'd started to feel guilty about snapping at her and calling Hermione a 'know-it-all' behind her back. Hermione had seemed to take this to mean they were now friends and had started walking with him and Ron to their classes. Ron wasn't happy with this arrangement, and to be honest neither was Harry, but he couldn't really turn her away now, could he? Besides, he had to admit she was very, very clever.

"But, it's Quidditch! The team's great, yeah, but we need a decent Seeker if we want to win the cup!" Oliver protested.

"I'm sure you can find someone else loads better than me," Harry said firmly. "Sorry, but I need to get to class now, bye Oliver!" Without waiting for the older boy to reply, Harry ducked around him and ran over to Ron and Hermione.

"Let's go," Harry muttered to the two of them as he grabbed their sleeves and yanked the two inside the classroom.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger! Sit down, sit down. Is that everyone? Good!" Professor Flitwick beamed from on top of the table at the front of the class.

The trio hastily took the remaining seats near the front of the class and pulled out their books.

"If Oliver doesn't stop by tomorrow, do you want me to sic Fred and George on him?" Ron whispered to Harry as Professor Flitwick began a lecture on the unlocking charm. To Ron's left, Hermione was rapidly taking notes, while Harry was still looking for his Charms textbook.

"It's fine," Harry whispered back, finally locating his textbook with a relieved sigh. "Let's not move onto drastic measures unless absolutely necessary." Hermione glared at the two of them and pressed a finger to her lips before quickly returning her full attention to the professor.

Ron rolled his eyes and leaned closer to lower his voice, "I think it's time for drastic measures. He's been following you around for days."

"Mr. Weasley, do you have something you want to contribute to the class?"

"No, sir. Sorry, professor," Ron called out while sinking down in his seat. Harry hunched over his book, pretending he'd been looking through the textbook. As soon as Professor Flitwick turned away to write out the incantation on the board Harry passed Ron the note he'd been writing.

 _We're not asking your brothers unless_ _absolutely necessary_ _. Besides, I'm bringing in Percy before the twins._

When Ron raised his head from the note to stare at him aghast, Harry gave him a pointed look and returned his attention to the front of the class. Huh, the unlocking charm. That would probably be useful sooner or later. Ron nudged his side with his elbow and Harry reached down under the table to accept his note.

 _It's necessary, mate, he cornered you in front of the loo yesterday! Besides,_ _Percy?!_

 _He_ _is_ _a Prefect. Besides he's a 5th year isn't he?_ Harry scribbled back.

"Has everyone gotten the incantation down? Wonderful! Now, I will demonstrate the wand movements so watch closely, and Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, do pay attention." Professor Flitwick said cheerfully.

"Yes, sir." Ron and Harry chorused hastily and Ron shoved their short conversation into his pocket.

As soon as the class was over Hermione rounded on them.

"Passing notes? In class?"

Ron shrugged, his voice taking on a defensive tone, "What? We're kids! It happens!"

"That doesn't make it right! What if Professor Flitwick took off points? Or worse yet, what if he decided to lower your grade for not paying attention?"

"Calm down Hermione," Harry interjected, seeing a fight begin to brew, "I know, we probably shouldn't have passed notes in class, but it's not like it's a serious offense. We'll be careful from now on, right Ron?" He nudged his best friend in the ribs as subtly as he could, and Ron gave a grudging nod, but not before muttering under his breath, something about 'bossy little know-it-alls'. Harry pretended not to hear and started going down the corridor to the Great Hall. He'd barely gone five steps when someone called out.

"Potter, a word." Harry let out an irritated huff and turned around to face the older Slytherin.

"'Potter', really," He said flatly as he looked at Evans. "You know, someone might get the idea that you're not my brother after all."

"Like you'd have a problem with that," Evans retorted coldly. He looked at Hermione who was holding her bag to her chest, anxiously looking between the two of them, and Ron, who had his fists raised awkwardly like he was getting ready for a fight but had no idea how to go about it. He turned back to Harry. "A word. In private." He tacked on.

"No," Harry replied flatly and turned to leave. Instantly, Evans reached out and grabbed his arm.

"That wasn't a request," the older boy said, his voice low. Harry tried to pull away, but he had been living with the Dursleys the past ten years, while Evans had clearly been living without a want. The hand on his arm hardly even budged.

"Harry?" Ron asked anxiously.

"I'm fine," Harry replied and gave both Ron and Hermione what he hoped was a reassuring smile. From what he could gather by the looks on their faces, he'd failed spectacularly. "Go ahead, I'll meet you at the Great Hall." Even as the words left his mouth Evans turned and yanked Harry behind him as he pulled him across the corridor and up a flight of stairs.

"I thought the third-floor corridor was out of bounds?"

"The right-hand side is," Evans shot back sharply. He took a quick look around, then pushed Harry into an empty classroom and closed the door behind him. His expression when he spun around, was quite frankly the closest to fury Harry had so far seen on his normally pleasant face.

"Is it nice, being the Boy-Who-Lived, Gryffindor-Extraordinaire?"

"What?" Harry blinked at him, honestly taken aback by his words. Evans continued as if he hadn't noticed.

"Youngest Seeker in a little over a century is it? Must be nice, having confirmation you can get away with most anything that would get other students expelled. Though I would have thought that you were smart enough not to rub that in other people's faces. Actually, no, I forgot, you're a bloody Gryffindor, aren't you? The school's darling Gryffindors, always thinking that since they're 'good' and 'right' and, Merlin's beard are they arrogant, ' _better',_ they could ignore consequences and other people's feelings and just bulldoze over politics like it was just a game."

Harry gaped at the older boy in stunned disbelief. He couldn't be - really?

"Seeker. A first year, who'd only just ridden a broom for the first time less than five hours ago. When there's plenty of others who'd been trying to get on the team for years and finally thought they might have a chance. What would they think, Potter, when they find out they've been beaten out of the position before tryouts have even started? They'd be upset, obviously, but they wouldn't argue, not when they hear they've been beaten by the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. He's Harry Potter, of course, he's bloody brilliant in whatever he bloody does, and if he has something he wants? Obviously, he's bloody entitled to it and everybody, get out of the way. No matter the fact that he hasn't even really done anything himself -"

The barrage of words hit Harry like a freight train, completely bulldozing over his conscious and dropping feelings of guilt left and right until Harry felt like squirming of discomfort at how it never occurred to him how him being offered position of Seeker would look to other people. He was feeling horribly guilty by the time Evans started talking about Harry being the Boy-Who-Lived, and he eagerly seized upon what he felt like was the only way to defend his morality.

"I never asked for any of that! Besides, I said no,"

"other than live, and - what?"

"I said no," Harry repeated defensively. "To Professor McGonagall. And Oliver. I said I wouldn't be Gryffindor's Seeker. At least not until next year, after I've actually taken part in the tryouts. With my own broom. Hopefully."

"You said no," Evans echoed Harry's words, dumbfounded, "but - why?"

Harry shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious with the way Evans was staring at him. "Well, it seemed a bit unfair?"

Evans narrowed his eyes, "Why the sudden change of heart? From what I gathered you seemed perfectly happy to play Seeker just yesterday."

Harry huffed as he glared at the older boy, rather miffed at how Evans clearly didn't believe him. "One of my friends told me it was a bit unfair to Malfoy. I agreed. So Ron and I went to tell Professor McGonagall I'm resigning. So, yeah, change of heart."

Evans went back to looking completely bewildered. Harry personally thought the look didn't really suit him, but he'd take confused over angry any day. Angry meant long arguments and he was hungry.

"If that's all can I go now? Hermione and Ron are probably waiting for me."

"Granger? Since when were you friends with Granger?"

"Since yesterday and really, if you've nothing more to say I'm leaving," Harry tapped his foot impatiently and when Evans made no move to answer he sighed and turned around ready to go down to the Great Hall.

"Wait,"

Harry groaned inwardly and turned to face his brother once more. Evans had managed to get his face back under control and looked as unflappable as he always did except for the way he couldn't seem to meet Harry's eyes. He cleared his throat and shifted from one foot to the other.

"I - I'm sorry."

This time, it was Harry's turn to lose his footing. "What?"

Evans cleared his throat again. "I'm sorry. For implying you didn't care about other people -"

"More like shouting in my face than implying," Harry cut in. Evans' mouth tightened a bit but he inclined his head in what Harry assumed to mean acquiescence.

"Fine. I'm sorry for shouting in your face without even getting my facts right," there was another tightening of the mouth, Evans didn't seem to deal well with being wrong, "I'm also sorry for losing my temper, especially when it seems to be I was clearly in the wrong." Evans hesitated briefly then drew in a deep breath. "I also want to use this opportunity to apologize for, ah, withholding a couple of truths when we first met."

Harry had been feeling quite content with how the conversation was going and was hoping he could get back to the Great Hall before his friends could get too worried when Evans broached a topic everyone in the Gryffindor Tower by now knew to be taboo.

"A bit late to apologize for that isn't it." His voice came out frostier than he meant to sound. He was quite pleased by this when Evans flinched imperceptibly.

"I assumed late was better than never," Evans replied stiffly.

"Yeah, well, sooner would have been better, or you know, not lying at all would have been fantastic."

"Harry -"

"Oh, is it Harry again? I thought I was Potter -"

"Must you be difficult?"

"Me? Difficult? Like you have a bloody right to say that!"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, what more do you want me to do?"

"I don't know, maybe actually apologize!"

"I'm trying to but you're not letting me!"

"Not letting you?! You're the one who bloody gave up after two days!"

"I thought you didn't want to talk to me! And watch your language," Evans tacked on, successfully managing to derail Harry's next words completely.

"Language? Really? You were just swearing minutes ago yourself, you bloody hypocrite!"

"Yes, but I'd be the first to admit I wasn't acting my best and I sincerely hope you don't use that as an example of how to behave!"

"I suppose you don't want a bloody misbehaving Gryffindor to ruin your reputation?"

"Merlin's beard, you're impossible. Has it ever occurred to you that I just might want you to grow up to be a respectable member of society that actually has manners?"

"Why would you care?"

"For the love of - because you're my bloody brother!"

"Bollocks!"

"Language!"

The two boys stood there in the middle of an empty classroom as they glared at each other. For a couple of seconds, there was silence until Evans suddenly sighed and his shoulders slumped.

"I'm sorry. I know it isn't enough, but I really am. Sorry, you know. I hadn't been planning on lying to you, it just - you took me by surprise."

"What do you mean I took you by surprise, you're the one who came up to me first," Harry said, disbelief coloring his voice.

"It's not like I knew you were you, then," Evans protested.

"I look almost exactly like my - our - dad. Except for the eyes. I have mom's eyes. At least that's what everyone says," Harry pointed out dryly.

Evans scowled. "Fine, yes, I might have approached you because you looked like their pictures," _Pictures._ Harry felt a pang of jealousy, _he has pictures when I didn't even know how they died._ "But I didn't think you were actually _you_. Yes, I know that sounds stupid." Evans snapped sullenly before Harry could retort to that.

"That doesn't explain why you told me to sod off at the Welcoming Feast." Harry reminded him.

"I didn't tell you to sod off."

"You didn't argue with Malfoy when he said it, and anyway, you told me you'd talk to me later."

"First of all, I distinctly remember telling Draco to be quiet -"

"No you didn't."

"It was implied, then, as explicitly as possible, and second of all, there is a significant difference between telling you I'd talk to you later, and not planning on talking to you at all."

"Is there?"

"Obviously. By telling you I'd talk to you later, I'd basically promised there would be a later." Evans sounded quite exasperated by now, but Harry was feeling spectacularly mulish.

"Not really."

Evans' control snapped and he spun around to begin pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his hair, almost pulling at the black strands that had fallen into his face. "Really, what do you want me to do? I've done basically everything I could think of but seeing as it obviously hasn't worked, I'd appreciate it if you just went out and told me to my face how I could fix this." Evans looked even more agitated than even that time on the grounds when Harry and Malfoy had decided to have a showdown during their Flying class. He paused in his pacing and glanced at Harry through the corner of his eye, "If you want me to stay away and pretend I don't exist I'll do that." he offered uncertainly.

"Why would I want you to pretend you didn't exist?" Harry stared at him.

"I don't know, but then again, I clearly don't know what it is you want either, do I," Evans replied dryly.

"Well, no," Harry said awkwardly. There was a pause.

Evans sighed, "Just tell me to go away if you don't want to see me, and I promise I won't bother you from now on."

Harry hesitated. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure what it was he really wanted. There was, quite obviously, plenty of things he wanted Evans to do. For one, he'd very much appreciate it if he let him go down to the Great Hall so he could actually have lunch, but then again, he had to admit that was far too close to avoiding the issue. He wanted Evans to stop bothering him. He wanted him to treat Harry like he did Malfoy. He wanted him to go live with the Dursleys and see what it was like to feel unwanted. He wanted him to ditch the Dursleys entirely and find a way Harry could live with him.

There was just so many things he wanted from the older boy, and more than a few were conflicting, even without legalities and whatnot to worry about. But most of all, Harry realized, he didn't think he could honestly ask for anything because he was scared. Scared that he may be misunderstanding him, that he may not be seeing the invisible lines that existed in families, especially complicated families. Harry didn't know what was expected of him, how much he could ask for before irritation and annoyance won out over any type of familial obligation Evans may or may not hold for him. As loathe as he was to put it in such… Slytherin terms, in this relationship, Harry knew he was at a disadvantage.

Evans already had a family. Throughout the few days he'd spent at Hogwarts, he'd _seen_. Couldn't not see, really. Not when Malfoy seemed to take great delight in waving it in front of Harry's face. During meals, Harry had seen the way Malfoy automatically veered towards where Evans was sitting to share a couple of words and how Evans never turned him away, even when he had been talking to the older students or a professor. With Crabbe and Goyle faithfully flanking his sides, Malfoy would chatter away to the amused yet attentive second-year, at times even waving his arms around to accentuate a point if he got carried away. Evans would listen to him patiently, offering a comment or two that always left Malfoy beaming. Harry had even heard a couple of the other Slytherin first-years teasing Malfoy about having a brother complex. He'd denied the accusation vehemently of course, but Harry had noted Malfoy didn't deny being called his brother.

Evans didn't need another brother. Not like the way Harry, oh so desperately wanted a family to call his own. Harry didn't want to ask anything of Evans, he didn't want to push for the family ties the way everyone else seemed to expect he would because he didn't know how he'd be able to handle it if it turned out Evans didn't really want him. He'd already told Hagrid and Ron about how he always used to dream about having a relative take him away from the Dursleys; he'd never told anyone yet about his nightmare of having every single one of his other relatives turn away from him until only the Dursleys were left. If he asked for Evans to be his brother and actually mean it, only for him to say I'm sorry, but no, he expected he'd lock himself up the Astronomy Tower and never come down ever again.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?"

Evans' question broke through Harry's increasingly depressing thoughts. _No!_ Harry wanted to scream out that that was the last thing he wanted, but he couldn't quite voice the words.

"If you don't want to talk to me at least nod or shake your head would you?"

"I - It's not - I don't know." Harry managed to stammer out. Evans frowned.

"You don't know whether you want to talk to me or not?"

"No - well, yes - but no, that wasn't really what I meant," explained Harry hastily. "I meant, I don't - I mean - I don't know what I want." Harry finally blurted out.

"You don't know what you want," Evans repeated slowly. "Okay. I can deal with that. Let's start out with an easy one then; do you want me to stop talking to you? I meant stop talking to you in general not just now."

Harry let out a frustrated huff and ran his fingers through his hair. "That's not an easy one." He muttered. Evans raised an eyebrow.

"How's that not an easy one? Fine, fine, I'll try again; what are the reasons you _don't_ want to talk to me? I'll be asking you for the reasons why you _do_ later since I'm assuming you have at least a couple of both if you can't decide whether you want to or not."

Harry shifted from foot to foot, avoiding looking at Evans' face. There was a long silence before Evan spoke again.

"If it's too… personal, you don't have to answer me. Though if you do I promise it won't go beyond this room."

"Why do _you_ want to talk to me?" The question burst out before Harry could bite it back.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean," Harry said, his face going hot from embarrassment, "I'm presuming you want to talk to me if you're going at such lengths to find out whether _I_ want to talk to _you_ , so, er, yeah, why do you want to talk to me?"

Evans eyed Harry carefully, "I suppose 'you're my brother' wouldn't be enough?" he said wryly.

Harry let out a snort and Evans gave him a small smile, still a bit cautious but there all the same. His face turned contemplative and the older boy raised a hand to pick at his lower lip absentmindedly.

"Well, I don't really know how I should put this but… you're my brother Harry. I think you'd understand, at least I hope you do - actually no, that sounded wrong, it would be better if you couldn't understand but, well… I - we - weren't raised with a family, Harry. Not like the way your friend Weasley and Granger were. In my case, the Malfoys were nice but I am acutely aware of the fact that in the end, they would always put Draco first, and Draco knows that. Maybe not intellectually, but I assume you've seen the way he tends to bring up Lord and Lady Malfoy as much as possible?"

Harry let out another snort and Evans lips quirked up in a quick grin before he continued. "So, Draco knows that no matter what happens he'll always have someone to… come home to so to speak. Someone who'll just - care about him, regardless of whatever anyone might say or do. I suppose I wanted that and, there's only so far friends can get you, they'll have obligations to their own families and, to put it frankly, I didn't want to be relegated to second best." Evans spoke calmly, but he didn't seem able to meet Harry's eyes, choosing to stare over his right shoulder, a bare dusting of pink on his cheeks. "I know, not all families are like that, some people may say they're better off without a family at all, but, I thought it would be nice to, you know, have someone in my corner. And, well, I thought it would be nice if I could maybe be there for someone else too." He drew in a deep breath, his cheeks an unmistakable red. "I sincerely hope you are not planning on repeating this conversation to anyone. Merlin, this is mortifying. I hope you appreciate the honesty."

"I do," Harry said quickly, his own face quite red after processing what Evans has said. "I mean, I'm glad you're being honest. It's just…"

"Feelings," Evans complained, his face scrunching up just a bit. "Having them is bad enough - talking about them makes you want someone to get eaten by a basilisk."

"Preferably the other person. The one who's been listening." Harry agreed.

Evans paused. "You do realize in this situation that's you?"

"Er,"

Evans actually laughed at this. It was a surprisingly childish laugh, not at all posh and noble-ish like Harry would have thought it would sound like. More like when you get tickled and you end up somewhere between giggling and guffawing, a sort of honest laugh that you can't help and don't even bother to try to hide.

"So," Evans said with a smile still on his face. "Was that enough of an answer or do I need to find a basilisk with your name on it?"

Well. This was both easy and difficult to answer. "I -" Harry started before going silent again. It was both relieving and overwhelming to hear that Evans wanted almost exactly what Harry had longed for when he was younger. Relieving because - well, he remembered how Dudley got his thirty-seven presents and Harry didn't even get a Happy Birthday until Hagrid broke down the door. That would change. And yet, it was overwhelming because Harry didn't know what to do with all this. Having a family. Having people who _cared_ beyond making sure nobody thinks he's mistreated. The devotion to family Evans spoke of sounded wonderful, but he wasn't sure he could handle it, wasn't sure he deserved it. And how could he possibly reciprocate? Harry couldn't answer Evans, he just stood there, staring at him, and Evans didn't prod at him to answer. He just watched Harry with his hazel eyes, waiting. _Probably dad's eyes_ , Harry realized and suddenly it hit him. He had a family. A brother who wanted him. Why complicate matters? Harry shook his head once and looked up to give Evans a hesitant grin when he raised an eyebrow, and answered.

"I think, I think that was enough. More than enough even." A smile started to bloom across Evans' face. Suddenly feeling shy, Harry stared resolutely at a burnt spot near the door handle behind Evans. "I - I think I'd like that."

"Like what?" Evans asked cautiously.

"What you said. Er, you know. Having a family and, er, you know, the whole - thing." Harry waved his hand between Evans and himself, trying to encompass the entirety of what 'thing' was without saying anything specific.

"Oh. Yes. Of course. That thing." Evans looked simultaneously just as embarrassed as Harry and yet amused at the same time. "Well," he said after clearing his throat in the silence that followed, "I'm assuming this means I'm allowed to talk to you now." Harry nodded quickly, and when Evans glanced at him amused and exasperated, he hastened to answer.

"Yes. Yeah. Of course."

"Lovely," the older boy said dryly but the corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile. "Now that we've got that somewhat cleared up," He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pocket watch that looked quite old and frowned. "Merlin, it's gotten quite late. I don't think we'll have time to get down to the Great Hall and have lunch before class starts." At the mention of food Harry's stomach let out a rumble and he blushed when Evans looked at him. Evans shook his head with a grin. "Can't have you interrupting class with your stomach now, can we. Come on, I'll show you where the kitchens are and we'll get a small snack to keep you going." He opened the door and stood by it expectantly, clearly waiting for Harry to follow him.

Harry paused for a second. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure he'd managed to completely forgive Evans. There were still too many questions left unanswered, some of them with answers Harry thought he wouldn't be happy with no matter what Evans said. But, he supposed as he adjusted his bag on his shoulder, they had to start somewhere. Now, at least, he knew he would be able to ask questions in due time.

"By the way," Evans said as they made their way down the corridor to the stairs. "You can call me Gerin. You calling me Evans sounds a bit odd, seeing as that was our mother's maiden name and all that."

"Right," Harry nodded. Yes, things weren't perfect, far from it actually, but, Harry thought as they started going down the stairs, glancing briefly at the forbidden right-hand corridor when he thought he heard growling, maybe, just maybe they were on the right track to getting somewhere.

* * *

 **AN:** I'm so, so, terribly sorry for the wait. This chapter wouldn't write itself, and I had to rewrite it a couple of times cause I wasn't quite sure I'd gotten the characterization right. Again, I'm very sorry for taking too long, and I hope you enjoy this chapter :)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

It was odd how giving up a position you never really even had in the first place could have such a large effect on the way people treated you.

During their next flying class with the Slytherins, Harry found himself on the receiving end of many speculative glances from the snakes. Greengrass and Davis whispered to each other when Harry passed by, and whenever he completely accidentally met their eyes, they'd give him a nod, when before they'd been perfectly happy to ignore him. Zabini would strike up a conversation in the hallways, mostly consisting of nothing more than 'How was your day, Harry? I can call you Harry, can't I? Do call me Blaise, I insist.' and Millicent Bulstrode, a large girl taller than Harry by more than two inches, actually gave him a hug.

"Turning into a Gryffindor, Millie?"

"Shut up, Blaise," Nott snapped at Zabini who was standing by waiting while Bulstrode tried to break Harry's ribs. Now that he thought of it, it might be less of a hug and more of a murder attempt. "It's _Quidditch_."

Nott and Bulstrode were apparently avid Quidditch fans. Which was a surprise considering Harry had never even heard them talk before then and couldn't imagine them screaming for their respective teams in the stands like he knew Ron did.

Zabini - Blaise - no, Zabini, Harry decided he wasn't quite comfortable with the boy enough to think of him by his first name, rolled his eyes and waited for Bulstrode to stop squeezing Harry.

"Not bad for a Gryff," Bulstrode announced when she finally let Harry go. Apparently, it _was_ a hug.

"Thanks?" Harry wheezed out as he rubbed his side. Bulstrode grunted and turned to leave, Nott and Zabini trailing behind her. The latter flashed Harry a grin and a wink that left him staring in disbelief.

"Do you think Fred and George slipped something in the Slytherins' food?" Ron asked apprehensively as he stared at their retreating backs.

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione scoffed. "Come on, we're going to be late to Herbology."

Even Malfoy was acting differently. After their semi-disastrous flying class, Harry had been resigned to dealing with Malfoy being a prat, but other than a couple of snide comments now and then, he actually seemed to be holding his tongue. Almost literally, according to Seamus who'd heard Parkinson laughing at Malfoy when he'd bitten his tongue to keep from commenting on Neville's non-existent flying skills.

"It was hilarious, mate. You should have seen the way he was sticking his tongue out to check whether it was bleeding."

Harry had seen it, actually, but he'd thought Malfoy was making fun of Goyle behind his back. The cross-eyed look was quite similar to how Goyle looked during Charms, or Transfiguration, or well, basically every class other than History. He always had his eyes closed during Binn's class.

What was most surreal, though, was Potions. Snape had stared at him from the beginning of the class to the end, as though Harry were a mouse that had decided to try tap-dancing, and Snape was trying to figure out whether the Weasley twins had charmed the mouse into tap-dancing or transfigured a tap-dancer into a mouse. Harry had spent the entirety of the class tense, waiting for Snape to call him out for 'not reading the material', 'talking to Hermione' (which he never did, he'd like to add. It was more, Hermione trying to get him to brew a semi-acceptable potion) or 'breathing too loudly' (the 'too loudly' was optional. Harry was fairly certain Snape would be perfectly happy if Harry stopped breathing entirely). As a result, he accidentally dropped a whole doxy egg in his cauldron instead of 'one-third, crushed to fine powder' and the entire concoction exploded upwards, nearly taking off Hermione's head. He'd almost been relieved when Snape shouted at him for all of the reasons above. (' _Do you not have eyes you imbecile? Or were you too distracted by your pathetic attempts to ask for Granger's questionable advice? Next time, do make sure to explode your cauldron just so, so the world can be rid of your stupidity!_ ') The ten points taken from Gryffindor was a bonus.

At least some people were acting predictably. Hermione and Ron had cornered Harry after he'd eaten with Gerin in the kitchens to ask why he'd missed lunch. They'd both been worried, though Hermione was more worried about their relationship and Harry going hungry, while Ron had been worried they'd find Harry's body in the dungeons (Ron insisted it was a valid concern). When Harry told them Gerin had apologized and they'd had lunch in the kitchens, Hermione had beamed at him and Ron had stared.

"The kitchens? Blimey, Harry, I'm not sure even the twins know where it is!"

"Er, it's near the Hufflepuff common room -"

"How do you know where the Hufflepuff common room is?"

Fred and George had decided to celebrate their 'becoming a loving family' by magically attaching bells to Harry's hair, supposedly so Gerin could find him more easily if he ever got lost. Harry couldn't get the bells off and the twins had threatened to steal Percy's Prefect badge if he got rid of them for him, so he had to go to Transfiguration with the bells still attached. He'd been so sure Professor McGonagall would be annoyed but after he'd explained why he looked like an idiot, she'd just beamed and told him she was quite pleased he and Gerin had gotten over their differences.

So on and so forth, nearly everyone seemed pleased with him, either because he'd quit Seeker or because he'd decided to give Gerin a chance.

It was quite a novel experience, having Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team come up to him and clap him on the back. According to Zabini, Nott and Bulstrode had been driving him up the wall what with their tales of how Potter was a bloody natural Seeker and Slytherin was doomed.

Harry wasn't sure if that was a good thing. Oliver didn't seem to think so at any rate.

* * *

A few days after the majority of the Slytherins had gone mad, Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran into the Slytherin second-years, who were just returning dirty and sweating from Herbology.

"Harry? Shouldn't you and your friends be in class?" Gerin asked bemusedly, as he tried to wipe off the dirt on his face with his sleeve.

"Normally yeah, but Professor McGonagall let us leave early after Seamus set fire to half the desks," Harry explained.

"Lucky you," Gerin said, as he gave up on trying to appear cleaner with a sigh. "Wish something like that would happen to the greenhouse. The mandrakes are being difficult."

There was a brief awkward pause as both boys tried to think of something to say.

"How are your classes?" Gerin asked first.

"Fine," Harry replied quickly, relieved he didn't have to come up with a topic. "There's loads of work to do though. We even have an essay due today for Herbology." He scrunched his nose slightly. He'd rather hoped Herbology would be a class where they didn't have any homework after he'd seen there wasn't even a classroom.

Gerin and Harry both gave a start when Hermione let out a horrified gasp.

"Oh no, I nearly forgot!" She grabbed Ron's arm (' _Oi! That hurt!'_ ) and turned to Harry with an apologetic frown. "I'm sorry, but I just remembered I haven't written in that part about how - nevermind, I'm really, really sorry Harry but I need to go back up to the common room to finish my essay. Maybe we could take a walk next time?" She asked hopefully.

"Sure," Harry said with a shrug, and Hermione gave them a hasty goodbye and dragged Ron behind her as she hurried back to the Gryffindor Tower.

"Why are you dragging me along when you're the one that hasn't finished your essay?!"

"Maybe because I know you haven't finished your essay either?"

"I finished mine!"

"Professor Sprout asked for five inches, Ron - you've only written three. How are you going to get your OWLs or NEWTs if you don't know the basics?"

"We're first-years!"

Harry could hear Ron and Hermione arguing as they left and turned back to Gerin with a sheepish grin.

"Hermione's a bit enthusiastic about classes," he said by means of an explanation.

"Excellent qualities in a student, less so in a friend I'm assuming," Gerin said wryly. Harry didn't really know how to answer that so he settled for a shrug.

"Having any difficulties with your classes?"

Harry was about to shake his head when he paused. They had Potions tomorrow with the Slytherins and, well, in every class since the beginning of the school year, Snape had vanished his potion and given him a T. Most of that was due to Snape being a git, Harry had seen Crabbe's potion and there was no way his potion was worse than that, but he had to admit he was doing poorly even from an objective perspective. Ron was only a little better, and most of the older Gryffindors Harry felt comfortable with seemed to think studying Potions went against house loyalty, so he could expect no help from that side. On the other hand, he supposed he could ask Hermione or Percy for some pointers, but they had the tendency to go on and on about a subject, leaving Harry a couple of feet, a year or two, and a pile of books behind. Well, since he did ask first…

"Actually... How good are you at Potions?"

"Quite good," Gerin answered immediately, his back straightening. Harry mentally shook off the image of Malfoy preening under Snape's praise.

"Well, er, I'm kind of lousy at it? And Snape hating me doesn't help at all."

"Professor Snape, and I'm sure you're not that bad."

"... You're not going to try and convince me Snape, sorry, Professor Snape doesn't hate me?"

"No," Gerin said cheerfully. "He used to hate _me_ \- a Slytherin and absolutely brilliant at Potions. If you're as bad at Potions as you seem to think, I'd say you're a lost cause."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Harry said dryly.

"You're welcome," Gerin replied easily. "So, why are you asking about my excellent potion brewing skills?"

"You know, I think I can see the familial resemblance, between you and Malfoy," Harry said before clearing his throat. "Er, well, I wanted to ask you whether you could maybe help me with the theory and stuff? I tried to ask some of the older kids but Potions isn't really a favorite among Gryffindors and Percy's a bit, well, er,"

Gerin shrugged. "Why not? When were you thinking?"

"Uh, tomorrow? After lunch?"

Gerin shook his head. "I have Herbology at one on Fridays. How about three? Is that alright with you?"

Harry nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah that's fine. Can I bring my friends?"

"Fine by me. Empty classroom on the third floor, left-hand side?"

"Third floor?"

"For some reason, most of the students think the entire third floor is out-of-bounds, instead of just the right-hand side," Gerin said dryly. "We won't be interrupted there."

Harry thought it over a bit before nodding slowly. "That sounds brilliant. Tomorrow, three in the afternoon, third-floor left-hand side first classroom?"

"Exactly. See you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"You're welcome."

* * *

"Hello?" Harry said cautiously as he opened the door to the classroom. Ron peeked over his shoulder to take a look at the room while Neville glanced around nervously.

"Hello,"

Neville let out a startled squeak and Ron jumped when Gerin spoke up from behind them.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't intended to startle you this badly," He immediately apologized and held out a hand. "Gerin Adrian Potter, though I prefer to go by Evans."

"Er, Ron Weasley," Ron stuttered out. Neville mumbled something unintelligible beside him, but Gerin just nodded as if he understood him and stepped into the room. Harry knew he already knew who they were, but he assumed the older boy was just trying to be polite.

"No Miss Granger?" He asked as he put his bag down on the ground and sat down next it, arranging his robes neatly around him.

Ron scowled and Harry shifted uncomfortably while Neville looked down at his shoes, his face red. When Harry had told Ron about asking Gerin for help with Potions, he hadn't been particularly happy, sharing his brothers' opinion that Potions was best left to the Slytherins. Fortunately, though, he'd agreed that Harry probably needed all the help he could get if he didn't want to give Snape an excuse to fail him and said he'd come with Harry to the study group. Neville, who'd also been in the dorm getting ready to sleep, spoke up shyly and asked whether he could come as well. Both of them knew Neville was easily the worst at Potions in their entire year, so Harry had said yes, right away.

Initially, Harry had been planning on asking Hermione to come as well, but then Ron had insisted he didn't. He said Hermione would probably dominate any topic concerning academics, therefore completely ruining the point of asking Harry's brother for help - in other words, she'd raise the level of the study session to the point that Harry, Ron, and Neville wouldn't be able to keep up, thus making it moot. Neither Harry nor Neville could argue with that, and to be honest, Harry had been getting tired of Hermione trying to boss him and Ron around, always telling them to study and whatnot, so after a bit of hesitation, he reluctantly agreed to keep it a secret from her.

"Er, no, we didn't ask her," Harry said when he felt the silence had stretched a bit too long to be completely natural. Gerin gave him a look, complete with a raised eyebrow, but didn't comment further.

"I assume you've brought your books?"

"Yeah," "Of course,"

Neville mumbled.

"Lovely. Now sit down, my neck hurts from having to look up. So, how far have you gotten with your brewing?"

When Ron prodded his side and Neville raised his head to look at him, Harry realized he'd somehow been delegated to be the spokesperson for the Gryffindor first-years, and hastened to answer.

"Er, we brewed a Herbicide potion today?"

"Are you telling or asking me?"

"Telling. It's just, it started as a Herbicide potion but it didn't really, er, end as one."

"You botched a Herbicide potion? How did you manage to - How?" Gerin asked in disbelief. "All you need to do is make sure you prepared the ingredients correctly. After that, you could probably throw everything in the cauldron and it would still turn out moderately acceptable as long as you stirred it right."

"Well, that's why we're here isn't it? To find out what went wrong?" Ron muttered as he got his book out from his back.

Gerin frowned. "Point taken. Fine, take out your books and we'll go over what you did in class."

While Harry and Neville looked for their potions textbook, Gerin reached into his own bag and pulled out his own.

"I hope you remember the ingredients?"

There was silence as the three first-years looked at each other. Gerin sighed.

"You do realize Professor Snape will be choosing one of the potions you learned this term and make you brew it from memory at the end of the year? At least try to remember what goes in it."

"He's almost as bad as Percy," Ron whispered to Harry. Harry elbowed him in the ribs sharply and quickly tried to look innocent when Gerin shot them a look.

"We're sitting within ten feet of each other, Weasley. You'll have to be quieter than that. Or better yet, more subtle."

"Yes, professor," Ron said as he rolled his eyes. Harry winced. This wasn't going quite as well as he'd hoped.

"So ingredients? Longbottom?"

Neville gave a start at being addressed directly and hastily looked down at his book. "Er, four lionfish spines, two measures of horklump juice, um, two blobs of flobberworm mucus, and two measurements of the standard ingredient."

"Correct. Now I assume you understand the importance of using exactly as much as the book requires?"

"Er, I think so?" Harry offered uncertainly. Gerin looked very apprehensive.

"Why is it specified that you use four whole lionfish spines instead of eight halves?"

"Er," Harry stalled as he exchanged slightly panicked looks with Ron. He could very vividly recall their class from just a couple of hours ago. Ron had accidentally snapped all of their lionfish spines and dropped three of the thicker ends on the floor. They'd gotten two more and ground it along with the one bottom and three top halves, then poured the mixture into their cauldron. "Because," he started with a sinking feeling that he knew, at least partially why their potion had gone wrong. "breaking the spines changes the toxicity?"

"Close, but not quite," Gerin replied. "Weasley, what do you know about lionfish spines?"

"They're poisonous?" Ron offered uncertainly, his former animosity nearly gone, probably because they'd started to feel like they were in class, not just asking an older student for help.

"Yes, lionfish spines are venomous but do you know where the venom is concentrated in?"

"Er, the tip?"

"The venom is mostly concentrated in the _base_ of the spine and is ejected through - forget that, the venom is in the base of the spine. Please tell me you didn't add just the top ends in your potion."

"Technically, we only missed one bottom," Harry interjected.

"Lovely. Please tell me, why you thought it was a good idea to ignore the textbook."

"How were we supposed to know the bottom halves were the dangerous bits?"

"The bottom half isn't so much the dangerous bit, as it is the part where the dangerous bits are," Gerin started to say as he took Neville's _Magical Drafts and Potions_ and began to rifle through it, "but you should have known since I know for a fact that _it's written right here in the textbook_."

Harry, Ron, and Neville all leaned forward to look at where Gerin was pointing and there, in tiny letters next to the recipe for the Herbicide was _Note: the venom of the lionfish is located at the base of the spine; to create a perfect Herbicide potion, four whole spines are needed, lest the potion becomes too potent and renders the ground completely infertile, or becomes little more than a nasty tasting brew._

"Oh," Harry said dumbly as he stared at the writing.

"Who reads the margins," Ron grumbled as he sat back, but the tips of his ears were pink.

"Anyone who attempts to brew the potion, I hope," Gerin replied dryly as he returned Neville's textbook. "Longbottom, what is the difference between rough and fine powder?"

Neville's eyes were wide as he stared at the Slytherin. "Um, rough powder, is, um, bigger?" He stuttered out. Gerin closed his eyes and muttered to himself.

"Bigger, he says. Rough powder is _bigger_. And pray, tell, how exactly, do you measure, _bigger_."

Neville fell silent, his face completely red. Harry had a feeling that they'd missed something rather important in their classes, and that Gerin was trying very, very hard not to lose his temper.

"Rough powder retains the texture, color, and magical residue of an ingredient, therefore it is more often used for the staple ingredients that determine the effects of a potion. On the other hand, when an ingredient is crushed to fine powder it loses its texture completely and the color normally becomes lighter with the exception of a few ingredients you won't be using yet in your classes. It is also more susceptible to being affected by other factors, so it is often used when you need to mix two or more ingredients to create a certain effect. I suggest you write this down."

The three first-years scrambled for their quills and parchment and quickly began to scribble down Gerin's words. As soon as they were finished, Gerin began to quiz them on everything, from the properties of the ingredients, the exact measurements of the measurements, the meaning of clockwise vs counterclockwise stirs, and finally, the importance of how they waved their wands when they were brewing.

"No, no, Weasley, you can't _jab_ your wand at a Herbicide, you're not trying to make it _that_ deadly - you don't know the difference between jabbing and waving and everything else do you."

"Jabbing is mostly used for offensive spells such as curses, swish and flicks mostly for charms, and wide waves for transfiguration," Neville said quietly.

"Brilliant, well-done, Longbottom."

After Gerin had decided to treat them like they knew nothing at all, he'd stopped sighing and letting out little, pained sounds everytime they opened their mouths. This seemed to help Neville feel more comfortable and he'd started speaking up when Harry or Ron couldn't answer a question, which was most of the time. To their surprise, they'd found that Neville was the strongest of the three when it came to theory - apparently, he was just hopeless when it came to the actual brewing. Harry had thought Gerin would say something demeaning, probably along the lines of how the only possible explanation for Neville not being able to brew when he actually knew how to was because he was horrible at magic, but he didn't. His only comment was that Neville probably couldn't brew half as well as he was capable because he got too nervous and tended to get too wrapped up in the details and missed the timing and such for the brewing. He advised him to _not_ pay attention to the details, and focus instead on the ' _when'_ s as opposed to the ' _how'_ s. Neville had nodded slowly, and Harry noticed that when Gerin was firing question after question to a sweating Ron, he took out his quill and wrote what Gerin said down at the bottom.

"Blimey, this is mental. How do you know all this stuff?"

"I read, Weasley," Gerin answered dryly. "I read and I study. Why don't you try the same, it would do wonders for your performance in class."

"We're only in our first-year -"

"And if you haven't mastered how to prepare the basic ingredients in your first year, how are you going to brew more advanced potions in your OWLs or even NEWTs?"

"We don't _need_ an OWL or NEWT for Potions."

"You do for most jobs, including Aurors and Healers."

Both Ron and Neville seemed to perk up when Gerin mentioned the jobs.

"What's an Auror?" Harry asked. Ron turned to him in shock.

"You don't - sorry, mate, forgot you were raised by muggles. Er, Aurors are wizards or witches that are really good at magic and catch bad wizards and witches and do other stuff like that. They're kind of like muggle pol - poly - erm,"

"Police. They're like muggle police," Gerin spoke when Ron fumbled with the term. "but more elite and it's far harder for a wizard to become an Auror than it is for a muggle to become a policeman."

"That sounds wicked. Were our parents Aurors?" Harry wasn't quite sure what made him ask.

There was an awkward pause. Harry felt a bit guilty for bringing up the subject when he noticed Ron and Neville lean back as if they were trying to not be there without actually leaving, though it wasn't like he was trying to make anyone feel uncomfortable.

"Our father was an Auror," Gerin said after a moment. "I've heard he was quite good at it as well." He fished through his pocket and retrieved his watch. "I think that's enough for today. You said you had an essay on the Herbicide potion due next week? I expect all three of you, yes, you too Longbottom, to get at least an E."

"An E?!"

"Are we meeting next week too?"

All three of them stared at Neville when the chubby boy spoke up. Neville turned red, looking a bit overwhelmed at being the center of attention, but he kept his chin up as he continued.

"It's - this was more useful than Pro- Professor Snape's class, and I - I want to get at least an Acceptable. For my parents." he stuttered out.

"Did Lady Longbottom tell you that?" Gerin asked, his face unreadable. Neville straightened and looked at him in the eye.

"No. This was my decision. I - I want to do well."

Harry held his breath as he watched his brother think. The older boy absent-mindedly scratched his chin before sighing and took out a small notebook.

"An E, Longbottom, don't settle for an A. I suppose I might as well add that to my schedule. Are you two going to tag along as well?"

"Of course." "Er, sorry but -"

Harry turned to look at Ron just as Ron turned to look at Harry. Harry tried to convey how much he needed to pull up his Potions grades while Ron was practically screaming ' _studying, Harry, he's asking us to study!'_ with his eyes _._ After a brief struggle, Ron's shoulders sagged.

"The things I do for you, mate," he muttered. "Yeah, we'll be there."

"Lovely. Do you know what you'll be working on next week?"

"Professor Snape said we'd be trying the Herbicide once more before moving on to the Wiggenweld Potion," Neville said without any prompting and not a hint of a stutter. Declaring he wanted to do better at Potions to the world (though really it was only Harry, Ron, and Gerin) seemed to have done wonders for his confidence.

"Excellent. Then you should be able to brew an acceptable potion unless something drastic happens. We'll deal with fires and the ingredients used in the Wiggenweld next week, so bring both _Magical Drafts and Potions_ and _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_." Gerin got to his feet and dusted off his robes before slinging his bag over his shoulder. "You've only about twenty minutes before supper so get going."

At that, the Gryffindors hurried to their feet and gave their hasty 'goodbye's and rushed out the door, all the while chatting to each other cheerfully. Harry was quite pleased by today's study session. He felt like he managed to learn more than he did in three of Snape's classes combined, Ron had changed his mind about Gerin being a slimy Slytherin, and Neville seemed to be less nervous about Potions, older students, and Slytherins in general. They decided to drop by the Gryffindor common room to put their bags away, avoided Hermione's questions as to where they'd gone, made their way down to the Great Hall, and got seated just as the plates filled with food.

 _It was quite nice,_ Harry thought to himself days later, _to have an older brother he could ask questions to._ He remembered the way one of the girls at his primary school had always been bragging about how her sister was the best and knew everything. Obviously, he didn't think Gerin was all-knowing - it was clear he wasn't particularly knowledgable about Quidditch if the blank look he had on his face the last time Ron mentioned the Chudley Canons was an indicator. Still, even Ron had to admit he was absolutely brilliant at Potions, and Neville had started looking at him with something close to reverence after he'd gotten his first, grudging Acceptable from Snape on both his potion and essay for the Herbicide.

Even Harry had managed to raise his grades a bit, and Snape had stopped picking on him so much when he realized Harry actually started turning in adequate potions. Days passed, Professor McGonagall told him she was proud of him for seeking help for his worst subject and doing well in it, Ron finally got around to teaching him Wizarding Chess and he'd started losing regularly, Oliver only badgered him about Quidditch once in a while, Percy still badgered them about their studies all the while, Neville kept on stuttering when talking to Malfoy, the Slytherins were still mad, he and Ron had started to drift apart from Hermione who was still doing brilliantly in all their classes, Fred and Geroge broke the record for most detentions in a month, and before he knew it -

It was Halloween.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

"Because we don't want you there, you, you - know-it-all teacher's pet!"

Harry froze at the bottom of the stairs, his dragon-hide gloves stuffed hastily in his pocket. The common room was silent and everyone was either openly staring at the confrontation happening near the door or pretending they'd gone temporarily deaf. Ron, who had been the one to shout, was facing Hermione, his face and neck a blotchy red that clashed horribly with his hair. Harry couldn't see Hermione's face from where he stood, but from the way her shoulders were raised and tense, he could imagine.

Neville, who had been hovering behind Ron anxiously, holding both his and Harry's bags was the first to spot him.

"Harry!"

"Er," Harry said uncertainly as he made his way forward. "Did I miss something?"

"Is it true?"

Harry turned to look at Hermione. She was standing with her back straight and chin high, her bag clutched tightly in her hands in front of her like a shield. Her eyes were bright.

"Sorry?" Harry said uncertainly, not quite sure he knew what she was talking about. Apparently, he'd answered wrong, because Hermione let out a small sob and pushed past him and Neville and stormed out the common room. Harry gaped after her before turning back to face Ron and Neville, completely bewildered.

"What did I do?"

Ron looked away and Neville glanced around the still quiet room.

"We'll tell you on the way to the greenhouse," he said quietly before handing Harry his bag and pulling Ron out the door by his sleeve.

"What's going on?" Harry asked again once they were outside the castle and away from any prying ears.

Neville sighed and Ron's ears started turning red again.

"Hermione found out about our potions study group."

"Yeah? And?"

Neville gave him a pointed look.

"She's not invited, remember?"

"Oh," Harry said blankly feeling his own face begin to heat. It had been over a month since they'd started and it had become a kind of habit to go straight to the third floor with their books at three. Somewhere along the way, they'd stopped caring about not being noticed by Hermione and he'd completely forgotten it was a deliberate decision to exclude her.

"She, er, I guess she was upset?"

"Sort of. Not as much as I would have thought at first, but, well. Hermione was a bit upset when she found out we'd been having the study thing for a month, but mostly about the fact that we were _studying_ without her rather than we were studying _without her_ \- you know how she gets about classes. So she said she wanted to come with us tomorrow and Ron said no. Hermione asked why not, and, well, the rest you can guess. It was horrible." Neville added on in a small voice.

"It's not like what I said was wrong," Ron protested when Harry looked at him. "You agreed to it! Both of you!"

"Yes, but there's no need to be mean!" Neville exclaimed.

"Didn't hear you saying anything about it in the common room," Ron shot back.

Neville shrank back and Harry looked away uncomfortably. Ron was right. He didn't really have a leg to stand on, did he? Sure, it hadn't been his idea, but when Ron had suggested keeping Hermione out of the group, he hadn't protested and, to be honest, had been secretly relieved. Now that he thought back, he couldn't understand how they'd expected to keep it a secret from her for the rest of the year. And now, as per expected, Hermione had found out. He supposed they should apologize, but how? Harry glanced at Ron to see that the red-haired boy was still scowling. It didn't look like he thought they were wrong. He shifted his bag slung over his shoulder. It still dug into his side uncomfortably.

"Are we going to apologize?" Neville asked quietly.

"We haven't done anything wrong!" Ron said angrily.

"You called her a 'know-it-all teacher's pet," Neville pointed out, his voice sharper than usual.

"Not like it isn't true."

"You're not going to just leave things like this!"

"And why not!"

"You're just scared of apologizing and admitting you're wrong!"

"Am not!"

"Harry! We're going to apologize, aren't we?" Both boys stopped and turned to look at Harry. He froze and looked back at the two of them.

"Er…"

Neville let out a huff of irritation and started walking again.

"You're cowards. Both of you. I'm going to apologize."

Ron scowled at the slightly shorter boy's back and scoffed.

"Cowards! Us! He's scared of Snape's shadow and he calls us cowards, Harry!"

But when Harry looked at Ron he noticed him shifting uncertainly on his feet and when they arrived at the greenhouse to find Neville already paired up with Hermione and two other girls from Hufflepuff, Ron kept glancing at them with a conflicted expression on his face.

He wasn't the only one. Harry found that he quite missed having Neville and Hermione as their partners, and not just because one of the seeds blew up in his face after Seamus accidentally squashed a pod.

* * *

It was almost dinner before Harry worked up the courage to confront Ron.

"Ron, I think we should apologize to Hermione."

"You think so too?" Ron said glumly as he stared down at his charms essay they'd gotten back today. Harry glanced down at the parchment and noticed that the other boy had gotten an E. That was the essay Hermione had helped him with, he recalled.

"Yeah," his voice came out as a sort of squeak. He cleared his throat hastily. "Yeah. I've been thinking and - we should have asked her to come to the study group. Even if she might be a bit… bossy. We should have told her instead of just excluding her and, well…"

"I shouldn't have called her a know-it-all teacher's pet, I know," Ron said with a sigh as he put down his essay.

"Too right, little brother."

"Yeah, we raised you better than that."

Fred and George materialized out of thin air and perched themselves on the armrests of the chair Ron was sitting in. Ron scowled almost as a reflex.

"You didn't raise me!"

"I'm hurt Ronniekins!"

"Yeah, I distinctly remember changing your diaper once."

"I- you- No you didn't!" Ron squawked out.

"Course not-"

"We wouldn't touch your diaper with Malfoy Sr.'s walking cane-"

"Even if he paid us in galleons-"

"Or mum threatened us with chores."

"Fred! George! What have I said about dungbombs!"

"Or with Percy the Prefect." The twins chorused and jumped off the chair and turned to face Percy with matching grins on their faces.

"I think the twins approve," Harry offered in the ensuing one-sided shouting.

"Charlie once said it was always a safer bet to do the opposite of whatever the twins suggested," said Ron.

"Oh. Er,"

"Just joking," he said with a sigh. "Well, Charlie did say that, but I think he was talking about their pranks and stuff. Probably."

"So," said Ron as he got to his feet determinedly. "Where's Hermione?"

Things would have gone far, far more smoothly if Hermione had been in the common room or the dorms, so, of course, she wasn't in either. After checking the common room they'd tried to go up to the girls' dorms and found that the stairs turned into slides as soon as they'd gone up a few steps. On their fifth try (it was Ron's turn - they thought that maybe if they had a running head start, they might be able to make it up far enough before the stairs changed) Parvati came down.

"Hermione isn't in the dorm," she said primly after landing on the bottom of the slide. "So you can stop trying now."

"Oh," Harry said as Ron got to his feet from where he'd ended up on his backside after another failed attempt. "Er, do you know where she is then?"

"Somewhere you aren't, obviously," the girl said coolly.

"Tell them to go away, Parvati!"

"I'm trying to, Lavender!" she shouted back up the slide.

Harry thought he was quite brave to keep trying.

"It's just," he said desperately when it looked like Parvati was contemplating hexing them. "We wanted to apologize for everything, well, not everything I suppose, more like a lot of things, you know about some I think -"

"Stop babbling," Parvati cut in. Her voice was still fairly cool, but her face had softened a bit. "You're going to apologize?"

"Yeah," Ron said quickly, nodding vigorously. "We're going to apologize for the study group thing and I'm going to apologize for calling her names."

"Good," she said with a sharp nod. "You really should - that was horribly mean of you, you know. She's probably with Neville. If we see her we'll tell her you wanted to apologize."

"You mean she's not in the dorms?" Ron asked.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Parvati replied, her irritation clear.

"I thought you were just saying that to be difficult -"

"Thanks, Parvati," Harry cut in hastily before Ron could put his foot in it even further. "We appreciate it, bye."

He hastily shoved Ron away before Parvati could really hex them and they continued their search for Hermione.

They still hadn't managed to find her or Neville by the time dinner came around.

"They wouldn't miss the Halloween Feast, would they?" Ron asked anxiously as he stood on his toes to look around the Great Hall from the entrance.

"I think they would," Harry said glumly. He'd looked over the Gryffindor table at least twice and hadn't managed to see Hermione's bushy hair anywhere.

"Stop blocking the entrance, Potter," said Malfoy as he pushed past him.

Harry scowled and rubbed his arm.

"Don't worry about him," Zabini said easily as he passed by. "He's just upset he won't get to nag brother dear for sweets."

"Brother dear? Gerin isn't at the Feast too?"

"What do you mean, 'too'?" Zabini asked as he stopped. He tilted his head to the side looking a bit like Hedwig that time she'd found the enlarged cockroach Dean had charmed hot pink. "Who else isn't at the Feast?" Harry had been worried sick there would be side-effects when she'd eaten it.

"What are we stopping for?"

"We've stopped to talk to our Quidditch star of course," Zabini replied to Bulstrode without looking away from Harry. "Are you looking for someone?"

"None of your business," Ron said sharply.

"Lucky he wasn't talking to you," said Nott, not even bothering to look up from his book.

"You're an Appleby fan?" Ron asked incredulously as he stared at the cover.

"Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"

"We're looking for Hermione and Neville. Have you seen either of them?" Harry spoke up loudly before Ron could reply. Zabini looked amused.

"No, I'm afraid I haven't."

"Longbottom's on the second floor outside the girls' bathroom," Bulstrode said bluntly.

"The girls' bathroom? Why would he be there?" Thankfully, Ron seemed to have been sufficiently distracted from Nott's Quidditch team.

"How should I know."

"Because _Granger's_ in there, perhaps?" Nott said sarcastically.

"Thanks," Harry said hastily and grabbed Ron. Sometimes he really wished Slytherins and Gryffindors didn't have such a history of not getting along, and that Ron was less of a typical Gryffindor. "We'll see you tomorrow at Potions, bye!"

"Wouldn't it be better to wait for them in the Great Hall if Hermione's, erm, in the loo?" Ron asked as they hurried to the second floor. Harry paused.

"Maybe," he said doubtfully. "But wouldn't it look like we didn't care if we went to the Feast without them?"

"Point," Ron agreed but stopped at the top of the stairs to the second floor. "Still, shouldn't we at least make a plan instead of just barging in?" Harry frowned at him.

"Ron," he said slowly. "Are you getting nervous?"

Ron started to blush. "Apologizing to girls is _hard_. I've told you about Ginny, remember? Fred and George pranked her once - dyed her hair green and called her a snake and stuff - and she got all upset about it. Wouldn't talk to them for days. They tried to apologize but she'd cut them off and ignore them everytime. When she finally agreed to listen to them, the first thing she said was 'do you really mean it?' and the second was 'do you know what you're apologizing for?' They said yes, they meant it and that they were apologizing for the prank and she still didn't talk to them for the next month."

"Do you think that's going to happen with us?" Harry asked anxiously.

"I think it's going to be worse," Ron answered solemnly. "We made Hermione _cry_. I don't think Ginny's cried since she was six."

"Do you think Hermione's crying?"

"She's still in the bathroom isn't she?"

The two boys stood there in silence as they each tried to come up with a way to apologize. They were so deep in thought that they didn't even notice when someone jumped off the staircase to land behind them.

"Harry? Weasley? Why aren't you at the Feast?"

Harry slapped his hand over Ron's mouth when the latter nearly let out a shout of surprise.

"We're looking for Hermione and Neville," he said, trying to soothe his rapidly beating heart.

"Would you like me to help?" Gerin asked, looking rather bemused.

"No! No, it's fine," Harry quickly lowered his voice.

Gerin raised his eyebrows and before Harry or Ron could stop him, he stepped into the corridor looking around.

Ron lunged and pulled him back before Neville could see him.

"What are you doing!" He hissed at the older boy.

"Why are you looking for Longbottom when he's right there?" Gerin asked as if he didn't hear Ron. He paused then frowned. "What's he doing in front of the girl's bathroom?"

Harry exchanged a glance with Ron. Should they tell him?

"Is Granger in there? Oh, for Merlin's sake - come on, spill. What have you done to upset her."

"Who told you -" "How did you -"

Gerin sighed. "Longbottom's standing in front of the girl's bathroom and unless he's planning on using it himself - which I sincerely doubt not least of because the boy's bathroom is just down the opposite side of the corridor - that probably means he's waiting for someone. You said you were looking for Granger. Therefore, he's probably waiting for Granger. If she was actually using the loo, neither of you would have come looking for them, so, she's in the bathroom, not because she actually needs it, but rather because she wants privacy. She's an eleven-year-old girl - the only reason she'd need privacy that I can think of at the moment, is because she's crying. You're simultaneously looking for them, but hiding after you've found them, so you're feeling guilty about something and are trying to work up the courage to do something about it. Hence, Granger's crying in the bathroom because you two did something wrong and you're probably trying to apologize. Did I get anything wrong?"

Harry gaped. "Er. Hermione's twelve - her birthday was in September."

"I'll try to remember to give her my belated congratulations," Gerin responded dryly. "So. Spill."

"She found out about the potions study group," Harry said in a small voice.

"More like me teaching you than an actual study group, but fine, she found out you deliberately excluded her. Carry on."

"And I called her a know-it-all teacher's pet," Ron concluded in an even smaller voice.

There was an awkward silence.

"Well," Gerin finally said. "That isn't too bad. Now off you go."

"What?" Harry said blankly.

Gerin gave him a look. "You said you were here to apologize. Seeing as you have a very good reason to, I'm telling you to go and apologize now."

"We're going to!" Ron protested. "It's just - we need a plan first."

Gerin looked very unimpressed. "I'll give you a plan - walk up to the girl's bathroom. Knock. When Granger tells you to go away, say you're sorry for not telling her about the potions thing and for calling her names. It'll probably help if you tell her she's invited tomorrow. Unless it backfires and she thinks you're asking out of pity."

"That's not a - what's that smell?"

Gerin frowned, probably about to tell Ron off for trying to change the subject (or for how badly he was doing it - Harry'd noticed that Slytherins had really odd priorities) when he froze.

"Bloody hell," he whispered staring behind them back towards the stairs. "Get Longbottom and Granger, hide in the bathroom, and lock it. _Now._ "

"We can't go in there, it's the girl's bathroom!" Ron exclaimed while Harry turned around to see what had caught Gerin's attention.

"Ron," he said faintly. "Is that a troll?"

The troll in question caught sight of them and raised its club with a roar.

" _Now!_ "

Harry and Ron sprinted down the hallway like Uncle Vernon himself was on their tails (which wasn't entirely inaccurate) and grabbed a startled Neville.

"What was that?" He asked with his eyes wide.

"A troll," Harry replied shortly. "Hermione! We need you to open the door! There's a troll!"

"Go away!"

"Hermione!" Ron shouted next to Neville as he pounded on the door. "If we die, I swear I'm going to haunt you for the rest of your life!"

The other side of the door was silent.

"We're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna die" Neville chanted under his breath. Harry was about to shout again when Gerin appeared next to him.

"Got a few portraits to alert the professors," he said in clipped tones before raising his voice. "Granger! There is a troll in this hallway that's coming this way and I would very much appreciate it if you just opened the bloody door." He paused when the door still didn't open. "By the way, it was actually Longbottom's idea not to invite you to the study group."

Neville let out a squawk of indignation just as the door swung open to reveal a furious Hermione.

"How could you -!" She stopped when she caught sight of the troll behind them.

"White lie," Gerin said as he pushed the first-years inside. "In you go. If you faint on me now, Longbottom, I'll tell Professor Snape you told me he reminded you of your grandmother."

"I never said that."

"I know that, you know that, he doesn't know that, and guess who he'll believe? Now on your feet."

"You talk too much," Ron said faintly as he backed away from the doors to the stall.

"I know, it's a bit of a bad habit when I'm nervous. Now shush."

For a couple of seconds, there was silence.

"How smart are trolls?" Harry, the brave Gryffindor, broke it.

"They aren't,"

"Aren't?"

"Imagine Goyle with a concussion. They do have ears though, so _shush_."

The silence stretched out for what felt like ages until finally, they could hear a low groan from outside and heavy footsteps began to lead away. Harry let out a soft sigh and carefully began to lower his wand, Neville let go of Ron's robes and sank to the floor, and color began to return to Ron's face. Gerin took a cautious step forward.

 _Clang!_

"I'm sorry!" Hermione wailed as there was a roar and the troll began to attack the door. It threatened to give in to the troll's assault and Gerin scrambled back cursing vividly.

"Get back! Stick to the wall, not there you idiot, it's right across the door! Do you _want_ the troll to see you?"

Hermione reached over and yanked Neville over to them when he tripped over his feet and nearly fell into a stall.

"Stay close to the sinks by the door and when the troll gets in -"

"What do you mean _when_?!"

"I want you to sneak out, do you hear me?"

"Won't it notice us?" asked Neville. His eyes were wide and his hands were trembling noticeably. Hermione squeezed his hand while Ron reached over to pat him on the shoulder only to miss and nearly take out an eye when his own hand wouldn't stop shaking.

"Not if I can help it," Gerin said grimly.

"You're going to distract it?" said Ron. He sounded completely horrified, and after seeing the troll himself, Harry could sympathize.

"You're going to get yourself killed!" He hissed at the older boy.

"I most certainly am not -!"

The door gave.

"Arresto Momentum!" Gerin shouted as he ran out from where they'd been hiding under the sinks. The troll seemed to slow a bit and Harry and the other first-years scrambled out after him.

"Go!"

"I'm not leaving you!" Harry said angrily as he stood next to his brother.

"Don't be ridiculous! What are you going to do? Levitate it?"

"Levitation! We can use that to drop things on it!" Hermione exclaimed as she scrambled over and as if to prove her point she levitated a piece of broken stone and dropped it on the troll's head.

"Watch your left!" Ron yelled and pushed Hermione out of the way, just as the door of one of the stalls fell off and landed right where she'd been standing.

"Wi- Wingardium Leviosa!" Neville choked out. The fallen door rose a couple of inches before falling back down.

"I'm hopeless," he moaned then yelped as the troll slammed its club on the ground, the Slowing Charm having worn off already.

"Arresto Momentum, goddamn it! I told you to leave!"

"And we said no!" Harry yelled back as he levitated a stone and accidentally dropped it on the troll's foot. The troll let out a howl and started stomping around, knocking over stalls and breaking sinks. Jets of water shot out and doused everything within reach.

"And there goes the Fire-making Spell. Diffindo!"

The troll let out a howl and dropped its club to raise both of its hand to its face. Harry could just barely make out something that looked like blood dripping out between its fingers.

"What did you do to it?" Hermione asked, aghast.

"Blinded it with a well-placed Severing Charm. You're welcome by the way," said Gerin dryly as he yanked Ron out of the way of another falling piece of debris.

"Wingardium Leviosa, Wingardium Leviosa, Wingardium Leviosa, we're gonna die, Wingardium Leviosa, Wingardium Leviosa -"

The troll's club rose.

"Neville! Drop it on the troll's head!" Harry yelled.

"I can't! It's moving too much!"

"Granger!" Gerin called as he ran over to where she was standing next to Harry. "Do you know the Slowing Charm?"

"I've read about it -"

"Do you know the incantation?"

"Yes, but -"

"On the count of three then. One. Two. Three!"

"Arresto Momentum! But I haven't practiced yet!"

It was at that moment that Harry decided Hermione was a genius because the troll's movements slowed significantly, even more than when Gerin first used the charm.

"You're a bloody genius," Gerin said appreciatively as he stared at the troll.

"Er, Neville? The club?" said Ron.

"What if I miss?"

"What if you - oh for Merlin's sake!" Ron crawled over a large rock so he could grab Neville's arm and pull. The club moved with him and when it was positioned over the trolls head, Neville dropped his wand. It rolled over to the troll's feet. The club fell.

So did the troll.

"Well. That was fairly anticlimatic." Gerin said as he carefully made his way over to the troll. He shoved at its head with his foot and grimaced as it sort of flopped to the side.

There was the sound of running outside and suddenly Professor McGonagall, with Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell trailing behind her barged into the bathroom.

There was an awkward silence as the professors stared from the unconscious troll to the children, then back to the troll. The bathroom was a mess. A layer of dust covered them - the destruction had created so much that now they could all pass as sibling if one only looked at their hair. Gerin was bleeding from a small cut on his face from where one of Neville's rocks had hit him when he accidentally dropped it too close, and it looked like Ron might have sprained his ankle. There were no other notable injuries although they were all bruised and battered, though thankfully not as much as the troll. Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, only for no sound to come out.

They all gave a start when Neville started laughing hysterically. They turned to stare at him.

"We're alive," he croaked out, then burst into peals of uncontrolable giggles.

"You have issues, mate."


End file.
